


Herald's Prophet

by kimpossible



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Also Important People Die, Angst, Banter, Changing the Plot, Drinking, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Like so Much Time in the Tavern, MC Has A God Complex, Modern Girl in Thedas, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, slowest burn ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 77
Words: 144,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimpossible/pseuds/kimpossible
Summary: When Emma and her ex-boyfriend are transported to Thedas, she serves as his guide because she knows this world. She has played this game. The characters are fun. The commander is smoking hot. The plot is at her whims.That is, until she realizes this version of Thedas is a lot darker and less predictable than she expected and she lets down everyone around her at least once. Eventually she'll have to grow up and stop playing. It's not a game anymore.





	1. Prison

“I just want you to know that I still love you.”

“I still love you too.”

“Maybe one day we can be friends?”

“I’d really like that.”

“Just… maybe not quite yet.”

Emma laughed. “No. I think I’ll need some space for a bit first.”

John shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Thanks for bringing me my stuff.”

They’d been standing outside the coffee shop for a stupidly long time. They didn’t go in, even though they were getting soaked in the rain. Sitting for a coffee together, like everything was normal, felt too difficult. At the same time, this wasn’t a simple hand-off of goods. Neither was quite ready to say goodbye, even though they knew they were terrible together. Emma was holding a box of John’s stuff in her arms and she had neither handed it to him yet, nor had he reached for it.

“Well, fuck, eh?” She grinned at him wryly.

“Yeah, fuck.” John slowly reached for the box and she held it out to him. At that moment, a bolt of lightning crashed down towards them. Somehow, they had the time to look up. Emma thought _Is that lightning green?_ and then everything went black.

\--

Emma was trying really hard not to cry. She woke up expecting to be in a hospital bed and found herself in some kind of prison cell. The floor and walls appeared to made of stone bricks and iron bars blocked her exit. There was a bedroll in the corner. It was cold. At first, she had assumed she was dreaming but it had been at least an hour and nothing had happened. She hadn’t woken up, nothing dream-like had happened, her pinches and pacing had produced no results. This was like no dream she had ever experienced. She was simply stuck in this cell, alone and cold.

After another half hour or so, she heard footsteps from the right. “Hello?” she called. “Who’s there. Why am I here?”

A strangely accented voice exclaimed something unintelligible and the footsteps quickened towards her. Emma was not prepared for who came into view. A woman with short, black hair and scars on her face began unlocking the door, while another woman with shoulder-length red hair stood beside her. I know these women. Emma blinked really hard - and then pinched herself again for good measure. She was pretty sure she wasn’t dreaming.

The woman with the scars and dark hair strode in quickly and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. “Tell me who sent you. Tell me why you did it.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Emma protested. And then, even though she knew it was a bad idea, she asked, “are you Cassandra?”

“You will call me Seeker Pentaghast. This proves it.” She had turned to look back at the other woman. Leliana. “She is a spy. An infiltrator. She did this.”

“I still don’t believe she is a spy, Cassandra. Look at her strange clothes. And what spy would be so stupid as to admit they know you?” Emma looked down at her plaid shirt, skinny jeans, Blundstones, and she blushed. She likely did look quite strange to them.

Cassandra turned back towards Emma. “How do you know me? You are not from the Chantry. You are not anyone I recognize.”

Instead of answering, Emma was struck with a sudden thought and thrust her hand up in front of her face. No mark. Thank goodness. Cassandra sneered at her. “Do you look for the mark? You are not the one who has it. It is one of your companions.”

“One of my companions? How many of us fell through the rift?” Oh man, Emma thought. Every word coming out of my mouth makes me sound more complicit.

“So you admit you are working together! Tell me why I should not kill you right now.”

Emma sighed. If ever there was a time for boldness. “Because you’re a good person Cassa- Seeker Pentaghast, and you do not go about killing defenseless prisoners when you have no evidence they have done anything wrong.”

Cassandra grunted noncommittally but Leliana seemed to give a small smirk. The bard was terrifying in person and Emma was glad she wasn’t registering as a threat to her. A voice from elsewhere in the jail called out. “Seeker, the marked one is stable.” Is that Solas?

“Cassandra - Seeker, wait. Before you go please just tell me - is the marked one dressed strangely like me? Or is it someone else?”

Cassandra scowled before leaving, notably without answering her question.

A groggy voice from the dark of the cell across the way called out. “H-hello? Umm… Emma?” A flood of relief washed over her. It wasn’t him. John would be so lost as Inquisitor. She couldn’t imagine him having to go out and fight demons. John also wasn’t familiar with the- Her thoughts stopped. _Am I really thinking I’m in the world of a game? This makes no sense._

“John! I’m here. Are you okay?”

“I - where are we? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t know where we are,” she lied. She couldn’t exactly say they were in a video game while others could hear them. She also didn’t want to freak John out or make him think she’d gone off the rails.

Suddenly Cassandra appeared back at her cell. “Convince me that you are not responsible for this. Tell me the truth of how you know me.”

Emma tried to think. What do I do? Her thoughts felt so fuzzy, but she knew she had to say something or she would look uncooperative and be even worse off.

“Cassandra, I know who you are because I have seen you. I- I have seen you in my dreams. I am not from here,” she gestured to her clothes, “obviously. I do not know how I got here but I... know about the Breach because I have seen it.”

“Tell me what you know about the Breach.” Cassandra looked like her grips on the cell bars could tear them apart.

Emma thought she might piss herself, she was so scared. “I know that the mark can close it.”

“So Solas was right?” Leliana appeared again.

Emma nodded.

“She must be some sort of abomination. A demon has possessed her.” Cassandra said.

“Solas said she had no magic. He sensed no demon. Cullen also sensed nothing.”

“I’m not a mage. At least, I can’t do magic.” Emma tried to look more calm than she felt. “I just… I just see things. I know things.”

“Then help us,” Cassandra hissed. “Maybe then you will be allowed your freedom.”

Emma thought carefully. How could she help? “When the one with the mark wakes,” she said slowly, “take them to the Breach yourself Cassandra. They cannot close it yet, but they can stabilize it - stop it from growing. They can also close the smaller rifts.”

Cassandra narrowed her eyebrows. “This was already our plan.” She paused. “Why do you believe they cannot close it?”

“I have simply seen it... Also, be prepared. I believe a Pride Demon will be attracted to you there and you will have to defeat it before you can stabilize the Breach.”

“What else can you tell us?” Leliana sounded utterly fascinated. Emma looked at her pityingly.

“You will see there a memory of what happened before the explosion. You will see that the Divine was attacked by someone. It will be... unpleasant.”

“Who attacked her? You must tell us more.” Cassandra’s expression belied the authority she was trying to maintain. The reference to the Divine was distressing to them both.

Emma shook her head. Not a chance. “I cannot. I know no more.” She wasn’t sure what her interference will have done. If she was wrong, she might be killed. An uncomfortable feeling tugged at her gut and she was compelled to add one more thing. “Wait. There is a chance, when the time comes, to save some of Leliana’s people. Go through the mountain. It’s worth the risk.”


	2. More Questions

It was two days before Cassandra and Leliana visited again. Emma and John were treated decently but they had hardly been able to talk as a guard was always posted near their cells. It was boring. At first, John kept feeding her his theories about where they were - someone was playing a prank, they’d gone back in time, they were having a collective hallucination. After Emma responded vaguely that she didn’t think he was right, but offered no suggestions of her own, he picked up on the fact that she knew something he didn’t but was unable to say for a reason. Emma tried to talk to the guard a couple of times but they had apparently been instructed not to speak with the potential insurgents.

 

“You predicted correctly,” was all Cassandra said when she and Leliana returned. Emma nodded. “I am not sure if that makes you more or less trustworthy. Explain to me how you knew these things.”

 

“I see them sometimes when I dream,” Emma lied. “It must be a gift from the Maker, delivered to me through the Fade. I can see possible futures.” She had thought about this lie and hoped it would appeal to Cassandra’s sensibilities and faith. She could practically  _ hear  _ John listening incredulously from his own cell.

 

“What have you seen since the last time we spoke?” Leliana, ever the cool head, asked.

 

Emma paused and thought. “I have seen that the marked one is hurt.” Both women shot a questioning glance at the guard but he simply shrugged a denial. “It will take three days for them to recover - but they will recover.”

 

“That is all?”

 

“You plan to restart the Inquisition.”

 

“How do you…” Cassandra’s voice trailed off. They already had an explanation, of course, but each time Emma reported information that she shouldn’t know, it seemed to surprise them anyways. 

 

“She would have to be an extremely talented spy, Cassandra. Better than even I. I believe she might be telling the truth about these visions.”

 

“I-  _ We  _ would like to help you if we can. I’m Emma. That’s John.” Emma took a chance at earning some good will. 

 

Cassandra breathed out slowly. “You will be moved to Maxwell’s cabin. Solas will be able to question you while he tends to the injuries.” Emma took a moment to register that Maxwell meant the Inquisitor would be a human male before the second part of the statement hit her like a ton of bricks.  _ Questioned by Solas? Shit.  _ Nothing like being questioned by an elven god to make maintaining your lie more difficult. “This will include explaining the nature of the items you arrived with and just  _ how  _ these Fade-visions work.”

 

“Solas? Are you not a Seeker? Why is Solas questioning me?”

 

Cassandra paused. “I am far too busy.”  _ A lie. Why is she lying? _

 

Emma nodded. “What about John?” 

 

It was Leliana who turned to him. “Are you a seer as well?”

 

John snorted. “I’m a cook.”

 

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Fine. You will be sent to the kitchens and watched by a Templar until we can be sure you are not a mage and not a threat.” She turned back to Emma. “You will accompany us immediately.”

 

\--

 

Cassandra had guards posted outside the door but Emma hardly saw how it was necessary. The way Solas was eyeing her up made her shiver. She was sure he’d just as soon freeze her solid as ask her questions.

 

“You are not a mage.” His first words hovered somewhere between a question and a statement. Emma thought it best to answer, just in case.

 

“No.”

 

“And yet you see the future.”

 

“Sometimes. Parts of it.”

 

“He will be okay.” Solas gestured to the unconscious Maxwell.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I have spent much time in the Fade. It shows me the past, never the future.”

 

“Lucky you,” she sniped. She was getting annoyed with his way of phrasing his questions as statements, and the way he stared into her. 

 

“There were items found with you that are unfamiliar to me, in a strange crate and satchel.”

 

“May I have them returned?”

 

“Perhaps. It depends on their nature. You will explain them to me.”

 

Emma sighed heavily. “Can we do this later Solas? I’ll just curl up quietly in a corner or something. I haven’t exactly gotten a lot of sleep in the  _ dungeons.  _ I feel disgusting. I’ve been peeing in a damn bucket and I haven’t had a shower in days.” Emma felt herself getting more and more wound up as she spoke. Her voice cracked at the end and she struggled to hold back the tears that were pricking at her eyes.

 

“A shower.”

 

“Argh! A bath. I haven’t bathed in days. A shower is like bathing in a warm waterfall, okay?” Emma really was crying now. She was angry and frustrated and she, quite frankly, did not want to be in Thedas being interrogated by Solas when she could be at home watching reading a book with a cup of tea.

 

Solas said nothing but he got up and went to the door. He exchanged a few words with the guards out front before returning. 

 

“You were not attending the conclave.” He continued his interrogation.

 

Emma swallowed her sobs as best she could. “No.”

 

“You are not native to any region in Thedas that I have explored.”

 

“No.”

 

He raised his eyebrow at her. “I have explored many places.”

 

“Yes,” she said simply. 

 

“So how did you find yourself here?” His first direct question.

 

“I don’t really know. I was with John, I was returning him some of his stuff - the contents of that box, or crate, or whatever - and there was a flash of green light and I woke up here. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

 

At that moment, about four elves entered the hut. They were carrying pails of steaming water. Solas motioned in the direction of a second room that Emma hadn’t noticed. They were in a decently sized room with a bed, a fireplace, a table and chairs, and a chest of drawers. The second room appeared to serve the function of washroom and contained a large, wooden tub. The elves began emptying the pails into the tub before quickly leaving. None of them said a single word.

 

“You may bathe.”

 

Emma almost cried again out of relief and gratitude but she was determined to gather herself. Falling apart wasn’t going to help anything. “Thank you Solas,” she said. Then, in a moment of overtired giddiness, added, “ma serannas.”  _ Thank you. _

 

“Humans should not attempt to speak elven. It sounds clumsy on their tongues.”

 

“It’s probably just my clumsy tongue,” Emma conceded. 

 

“No. Your pronunciation was… adequate. Go. Bathe.”

 

There was no door to the bathing room, but Solas was sitting in a position that largely obstructed his view of the tub so Emma stripped down without hesitation and sank into the hot water. She moaned in pleasure. “Oh my god, yes.”

 

“I am not familiar with this prayer.” Solas sounded amused, though Emma could not see his face.

 

“It’s local.” Emma ducked under the water, twining fingers through her long, dark hair to untangle it. She grabbed a bar of something from next to the tub that had the vague appearance of soap. It appeared to be made of some type of fat with something rough that exfoliated mixed in, as well as some bits of an herb. Luckily, it smelled more of the herb than the fat. There was no shampoo so she scrubbed her scalp with the strange bar as well. Then she simply lay and soaked until the water was nearly room temperature, listening to Solas as he tended to Maxwell in the other room.

 

Emma heard the door open and a voice say, “I have come to bring the woman to the war room. Where is she?”

 

“She is in there but I wouldn’t -”

 

In the corner of her eye, she spotted Cullen Rutherford - she would recognize that lion fur about his shoulders anywhere - approach the doorway before abruptly turning about. “Oh Maker! I- I apologise, my lady. I saw nothing.” She could see the tips of his ears were red as he stammered and stayed pointedly facing the other direction.

 

She sighed. “Hang on Commander. I’ll be ready in a moment.”

 

“You know who I am?” Cullen started to turn back around in his surprise before either remembering or seeing her again and flipping back to face away from her.

 

“I’m coming out of the tub now, Commander. Please resist the urge to turn around again.” She was teasing him. She couldn’t resist. He transitioned from authoritative to awkward so quickly. The tub walls were so high, she was certain he hadn’t really seen anything, but he was flustered enough that he might as well have.

 

“What? No. Of course. Maker, I-” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and Emma almost laughed at the familiar gesture.

 

She wrapped herself up in the thick, woven blanket that passed for a towel before looking down at her dirty clothes. She wrinkled her nose before poking her head around the corner.

 

“Solas, is there any chance there might be some clean clothes around?”

 

“You are very demanding for a prisoner.” He seemed to say this with some amusement but she frowned at him anyways.

 

“I’m here to help,” she pouted. Solas gestured towards a cabinet of some sort and, without thinking, Emma strode over to investigate. She felt the Commander’s eyes on her before she saw him and when she looked over, she saw that he was running his eyes up her legs, which were exposed up to about mid-thigh where the towel ended. He ran his tongue over his lips and she wasn’t even sure he was aware of the intensity of his gaze. Her toes tingled from it and she reflexively dug them into the floor.  _ Cullen Rutherford is watching you and you’re only wearing a towel.  _ The thought made her feel hot inside but she couldn’t let herself indulge in that. “Do you mind?” 

 

“Huh? Oh, umm… right. S- Sorry. Sorry, umm… my lady.” Cullen avoided looking anywhere near her while Emma started rummaging through the cupboard. It turned out to be filled with men’s clothing, for Maxwell no doubt.  _ Of course. _

hone

“I have a name, you know.” She pulled a linen shirt with ties in the front over her head.

 

“I- Sorry. I do not know it.”

 

“Well, it’s Emma… Emma Bennett.” She couldn’t find any pants that would come close to fitting her so she reluctantly pulled on her dirty jeans. “I suppose introductions must seem a bit weird when I already know most people here, huh? You can turn around now.”

 

“Your manner of speaking is quite bizarre, Lady Bennett.” Cullen turned and his eyes darted to the v-shaped neckline of Emma’s shirt, loosely tied. It hung quite low on her chest, due to it being so large, but it was certainly nothing compared to what he must have seen in Orlesian fashion. He blushed again and looked pointedly at her face.

 

“Gee. It’s almost like I’m not from around here,” Emma teased as she pulled on her boots. “Come on. Take me to your war room then.”


	3. Trust

As Emma and Cullen walked across camp to the Chantry, as thought occurred to her. “Commander, why did you come to fetch me? Surely you could have sent a messenger.”

 

“It was on my way,” he commented lightly. “I also wished to check on how Maxwell was recovering.”

 

“Ah. Did you manage to ascertain that?”

 

“Oh, for the love of Andraste!” Cullen pinched his nose and shook his head. “I may have forgotten,” he admitted.

 

In the Chantry, Cassandra and Leliana were waiting with Josephine and Chancellor Roderick. The Chancellor glowered at her as she entered. “You heretic! You claim a Maker’s blessing?” He was spitting with rage.

 

Emma shot him a glare and proceeded to ignore him. “Josephine it is so lovely to finally meet you,” she said with a small bow.

 

“Ah. You as well, Lady Bennett.” She gave a slight bow of her own. “You are quite right Cassandra. That is rather unnerving,” she laughed.

 

“Excuse me, do you not know who I am?” Chancellor Roderick thundered at her.

 

_ He is so irritating.  _ “No, I’m afraid I do not. My visions only show me certain individuals of consequence.”  _ You colossal asshat.  _ She felt a little badly after she said it. He was, after all, quite probably going to die soon. Cullen’s nearly choked response to her statement and Josephine’s barely concealed giggle quickly pushed those feelings aside.

 

“You are dismissed now, Chancellor. We have private matters to discuss with the prisoner.” Cassandra waved him away and he stormed out sputtering.

 

“So, you are aware we intend to restart the Inquisition?” Cassandra’s face betrayed nothing.

 

“I am.”

 

“What can you tell us of use?”

 

“Umm… Not much at the moment, I’m afraid. The Chantry will not support you, but I imagine you would have guessed that on your own.”

 

“Mm. And what of him… Maxwell. Was he, is he protected by Andraste like the people are saying?” Cassandra looked almost nervous at the question.

 

_ No. He was saved by the Divine.  _ Emma shook her head.  __ “I do not see the truth of that yet. What I have seen is people flocking to you who believe in and take comfort from that belief. If it is a lie, it seems a necessary one.” _ I am a filthy liar. _

 

Leliana nodded. They had also surmised that much at this point. Emma pursed her lips. How could she appear useful without giving too much away?

 

“One more thing, a small thing. I have seen that a woman named Mother Giselle will reach out to you in friendship. Bring her here if possible. She will be a comfort where it is needed.” Emma glanced pointedly in the direction of the door. It was possible so far that she had managed to appear like she was giving them information while simply reinforcing decisions they had already made in the game. Was this how she would save herself?

 

After a few details were sorted, Cullen escorted her out of the Chantry, but he did not turn in the same direction as Maxwell’s cabin. “Where are we going, Commander?”

 

“To your quarters.”

 

“Does this mean you trust me now?” She snuck a sly smile up at him but his face was stoic.

 

“There will be a guard.”

 

“Ah.”

 

They walked in silence for a bit before Cullen made a gesture to indicate they had arrived. It was a tiny structure, too small to be called a cabin. More of a hut. It was also conspicuously close to the barracks. He looked down at her. “I hope that we can trust you, my lady.” It was said softly and with what felt like genuine warmth, not at all like a threat.

 

Emma squirmed under his gaze, keenly aware of how attractive we was.  _ He has the most intense eyes.  _ She needed to break the tension she suddenly felt. “Perhaps it is I who cannot trust you, Commander.” Cullen looked surprised and worried. “Two guards?” She gestured to the guards at the door. “You promised me just one.” 

 

“Ah, well,” he offered a shy smile. “I suppose you’ll have to watch out for me too then.” He opened the door for her and Emma saw that John was inside.

 

“John!” she exclaimed, diving into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” She turned around to thank Cullen, but he had already disappeared and closed the door behind him. They were alone.

 

“Emma, what is going on here?” 

 

“Please don’t think I’m crazy, John.”

 

“I spent all day in the kitchens. There are elves down there, Emma. Elves! And I think I saw a dwarf on the way here. You could tell me we are in goddamn Lord of the Rings right now and I would probably believe you.”

 

“Well, you’re not that far off…” Emma explained to John as best she could what she believed and he listened quietly and nodded along. “I’m scared John. If we’re really in Thedas-” She could barely even say it. She shivered. “There are demons and stuff around. We could be killed.”

 

“For now, we’ll stay here and make ourselves useful. There are walls around us and it seems like we’re at least with the good guys right now.” Emma nodded but she was still shaking. Saying it all out loud had put the reality of everything right into centre vision. John was pale but composed. He reached out his arm and she buried herself in his side. Everything they had left behind them seemed so far away. The breakup, the awkwardness, none of it mattered. The comfort of having someone else in that room with her who knew what she knew was all that was important.

 

There were two bedrolls in that tiny room but they settled together on one and eventually fell asleep in each others’ arms.

 

\--

 

_ Emma was standing in the middle of a street. On one side, she could see shops. A pizza shop. A bakery. A home goods store. On the other side, rows of small shacks and tents. Haven.  _

 

_ She could see the back of John’s head, moving away from her. He was walking slowly towards a swirling green mass. His steps echoed in her ears. _

 

_ She tried to call out for him. “No, don’t go that way!” Nothing came out. “No!” She reached out and tried to follow him, but her feet were stuck. Emma looked around desperately for something that could help her. That’s when she saw him, leaning against a wall and watching her curiously. _

 

_ Solas. _


	4. Realizations

Emma woke with a start.  _ That colossal dickwad!  _ She was completely livid. She couldn’t believe he had invaded her dreams. If she was being a little honest, she was also a little scared that what he had seen would make him doubt her story. 

 

John was still sleeping with his arm around her and she didn’t wish to wake him. She lay still and, unable to fall back asleep, debated the merits of threatening a god with the revelation of his true identity. 

 

A short time later, two quick raps on the door sounded. It opened halfway before Cullen’s voice came through, “are you decent, Lady Bennett?”

 

“Yes, yes. Come in.”  _ At least he learns.  _ The Commander stepped into the room as Emma began extricating herself from a slowly waking John. He looked a bit embarrassed to find them laying together, even though they were both completely dressed.

 

He cleared his throat. “I am to, uhh… escort you to breakfast.” He turned to John. “A Templar will be by to bring you back to the kitchens today.”

 

John grunted in response as Emma followed Cullen out the door.

 

“I suppose you just happened to be passing by again?” Emma asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Well… uhh. Not exactly.” Cullen cast a quick glance sideways at her before immediately looking back ahead.

 

“Let me guess,” she sighed. “Cassandra wanted you to check up on me and continue to assess whether I am a threat or an abomination or whatever?”

 

Cullen made a pained expression. “Something like that.”

 

“I don’t get it!” She threw her arms in the air in exasperation. “If she doesn’t trust me, why doesn’t she just interrogate me more herself?”

 

Cullen actually chuckled slightly. “She actually finds herself more inclined to trust you than she likes. That’s why she is having others assess your…” He trailed off with a vague gesture, apparently not wanting to say it out loud.

 

“So Cassandra trusts me?” Emma tapped her chin and made a humming noise. “But you don’t.” 

 

“What? Maker... I- I do actually.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why, and I certainly shouldn’t be telling you that, but yes, I do.”

 

“Then why are you here?”

 

He grinned at her ruefully. “You try saying no to Cassandra.” Emma laughed out loud with him.

 

Breakfast was a rather boring porridge but Emma was hungry enough to devour it with glee. The Commander merely picked at his food, his thoughts appearing to be elsewhere. She looked at his face, wondering if he had stopped taking lyrium already. Probably not, but maybe he was considering it?

 

“So you and this John are from the same place?”

 

“Yes.” She looked at him warily. Was he going to interrogate her after all?

 

“And you are married?”

 

“What? No! It’s...” She didn’t really want to go into it right now.  _ We broke up and then got sucked into another world and haven’t really talked about what that means.  _ “It’s complicated.”

 

“Ah. We had assumed. I apologise for your accommodations then. We can arrange something else.”

 

“No. Please, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble. Honestly, after everything…” She picked at her nails nervously. “I think I kind of need him close right now, ya know?” Cullen nodded, not looking at her. She briefly wondered if he was remembering how she and John had been laying together that morning. She resisted the urge to clarify, to insist it wasn’t like that. She had always liked Cullen, Game-Cullen, but this wasn’t a game. He was a real person, one with issues to work through. She wasn’t about to start emphasizing how single she was.

 

“Are you finished?” Gesturing at her bowl. Emma nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

 

As Emma followed Cullen outside, it occurred to her that she had no idea what the next plan was. Where would she be spending the day? She hurried behind him-  _ Man alive does he walk quickly! -  _ and was about to ask when she spotted Solas. She instantly peeled off towards him, all her anger from the morning having returned. “How  _ dare  _ you?!” she yelled as raised her fist to clock him in the face. Her fist never made contact, however, as a large hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her backwards.

 

Solas’ face didn’t betray any surprise at her outburst and this infuriated her even more. He tilted his head to the side. “I’m afraid I am unsure why you are so upset with me, Lady Bennett?”

 

“Don’t you lie. You know what you did, you rat bastard!” She tried to pull away from the hand that was holding her back, to go after Solas again, but she couldn’t. It was Cullen holding onto her, of course. He tugged her backwards with the hand he had on her wrist and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her against him. “Let go of me! Let me kill him!” Emma yelled as she struggled against his hold. It only made him hold onto her tighter, pressing her into his armour. It was starting to hurt but she didn’t care.

 

“Stop it,” he hissed into her ear. “You must stop.”

 

“Let me go!” she demanded again. “Do you know what he did?” This she said while staring Solas right in the eyes, never stopping her fight to get to him. People were staring, and she didn’t care.

 

“Perhaps you had better go,” Cullen said to Solas, sounding almost apologetic. Solas turned calmly and walked away.

 

“Don’t you sympathize with that conniving, invasive, creep!”

 

“Stop it!” Cullen commanded again, roughly turning her around to look her in the eye. He was gripping her shoulders now. “Move along!” He barked at the onlookers who quickly obeyed and shuffled off. When he looked back down at her, Emma was suddenly struck by how  _ big  _ he was. And intimidating. 

 

She stopped struggling but she glared up at him. “You might be my captor but you cannot make me just accept quietly what he did to me.”

 

“I don’t care what he did to you!” he thundered at her. This is not the Cullen she knew from the games. That Cullen would at least listen. All of her fury turned to him now. She opened her mouth to level some choice words at him but he had continued, quieter now. “That man is an apostate mage, and one we know very little about. You cannot antagonize him like that. It isn’t safe. You could-” 

 

“What, Commander? Make the elf angry? Upset Cassandra? Oh god forbid I-”

 

Cullen, with his hands still on her shoulders, literally shook her. “Be hurt, you silly girl. You could be hurt! You are not a mage. You have no fighting skills that I’ve seen. It… it isn’t safe.”  _ Oh.  _ Emma realised that despite everything, she had been thinking of Solas as a character from a game. One that she knew, and was predictable, and that might not be the case. She was not predictable. Her presence here was a wild card. She would have to be more careful.

 

She looked back at him, silent. Eventually he looked away and groaned. “Andraste preserve me. You were supposed to spend the day with Solas again. What am I going to do with you now?” 


	5. Compassion

It  was awkward standing there with Cullen, listening to him train new recruits. Unfortunately, Emma hadn’t much choice. He refused to allow her to be alone with Solas after her display that morning - despite Cassandra’s assertion that Solas had promised he held no ill will.  _ Probably because he was the nuglicker in the wrong.  _ Emma smiled at the insult. 

 

Partly it was awkward because she had nothing to do but watch. Mostly it was awkward because people kept throwing glances her way - admiration, curiosity, skepticism, hate, fear. They ran the gamut. She was almost as famous as the Herald, but she hadn’t done the heroic acts to earn her unilateral trust and praise. She wasn’t lying unconscious after stabilizing the Breach. She was the creepy woman who saw the future, and people had varied reactions to that.

 

“Ack!” A recruit yelled out as he got hit with a particularly tough blow from his sparring partner.

 

“If you paid attention to your training instead of sneaking glances at the seer you would have avoided that! Again!” Cullen’s voice boomed over field.  _ Wait, the seer? Is that what I’m being called now?  _

 

They did not stop sneaking glances. 

 

“Listen to me, all of you! If you cannot handle a minor distraction you will never be ready for battle. There are demons out there and they will not have their focus divided so easily.” Most of the recruits set their jaws and returned with a vigor to their training. One, a young woman, dropped her sword. Emma could see the look of panic creeping into her eyes as her breath started hitching erratically. “Get a hold of yourself recruit!” Cullen shouted at her.

 

Emma threw a glare at him. “That’s not going to help at all,” she hissed at him. “Just... keep training the other recruits.”

 

Emma approached the woman slowly. She had dropped into the mud at this point and was reflexively digging her hands in it. Her whole body was shaking and her eyes were darting around, unfocused.  _ Panic attack.  _ She hoped her infamy wouldn’t make things worse. She sat down in the mud in front of the girl. Close up, Emma could see she was even younger than she had thought. She made her voice low and soothing. “I don’t know if you’ve been through this before but it will pass. Take as much time as you need. You are safe here and no one is bothered if you take some time.” The girl nodded slightly. “What’s your name?”

 

The woman looked at her for the first time. “Ri-rina.”

 

“Hi Rina. My name is Emma. Rina, I want you to just focus on your breathing right now okay? Just try and take deep slow breaths as much as you can. That’s all I want you to think about, okay?” She waited until Rina successfully managed to take three deep breaths. “Good. You’re doing great. Rina, is it okay if I touch your hand?”

 

The girls face flashed with nervousness but she acquiesced. Emma took her hand gently and turned it palm up. She began slowly massaging her palms and fingers. “Just focus on the feeling of me rubbing your hand and talking to you, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she managed.

 

“How old are you Rina?”

 

“Seventeen.”

 

“That sounds really young to be a soldier. You could have applied to work almost anywhere. You must be a lot braver than I am.”

 

Rina shook her head. “Not really. I just didn’t want to be vulnerable and scared again, like I was when…” She trailed off.

 

Emma was not going to push that button for fear of putting the girl right back into that trauma. “Seems like joining an army is an awesome way to do that. You were gaining real power and skill back there.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“Heck yes. I saw you down that guy. He must have had fifty pounds on you! You’re a fast learner and a natural fighter.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Better. I- I think I can go back to training.”

 

“You don’t have to, you know. You can take the day if you need it.”  _ I’ll make sure of it. _

 

“No, I think I’m okay. I think I’d like to take down another soldier or two before the day is up.” Rina grinned shyly. 

 

Emma laughed. “That’s my girl!” she said as she returned back to the Commander.

 

“You can’t coddle her,” he grumbled. “She’ll have to fight for real at some point and she can’t collapse in a fit.”

 

“She’s obviously been through a trauma, Commander. She needs some patience while she learns not to be afraid of her own emotions.”

 

Cullen grunted. “We all have something. She has to get over it.”

 

“You don’t just get over something like that!”

 

“I did.” He looked at her pointedly, like he’d won the argument. Emma felt a rush of irritation. She  _ knew _ what crap that was and was not into letting that macho bullshit slide.

 

“Well maybe if someone had shown  _ you  _ some kindness, you wouldn’t have allowed the terrorizing of innocent mages in Kirkwall while you ‘got over it!” Emma clapped her hands over her mouth, as though she could stop the words that were already out and hanging in the air between them. Cullen’s eyes widened in surprise and then hurt before he looked away, a flush spreading over his cheeks.

 

“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t…”

 

“You’re covered in mud.” That was all he said as he watched the training continue. There was silence between them for the rest of the morning.

 

\--

 

“Can you watch her for an hour, please, Josephine? Perhaps have lunch? I have some work to attend to.”

 

Cullen still hadn’t said anything to her since her horrid accusation. Emma was a bit surprised he hadn’t simply delivered her to Solas, despite his misgivings.

 

“Yes, of course Cullen. I would love to get to know our resident prophet a little better.”

 

Cullen simply nodded his appreciation and exited. 

 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll just sit in a corner somewhere while you work. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

 

“Nonsense! We must have lunch and get to know each other a little bit better but…” Josephine clucked her tongue and looked Emma up and down appraisingly. “You will absolutely have to change first.”

 

Emma looked down at her pilfered shirt and muddy jeans.  _ Oh. Right.  _ “I don’t have anything else to wear.”

 

“Oh I’m certain we can find something more appropriate for the woman who’s words saved Leliana’s scouts, no?” 

 

Before Emma knew quite what was happening, they had moved buildings and she was in another bath that was scented with oils. She was provided with two separate soaps, one for her body and one for her hair, and a servant came in and combed some sort of oil through her dark hair afterwards before rinsing it out.

 

Josephine entered with tight, disapproving lips. “We have limited options. You are quite petite. I almost had to repurpose elven clothes for you but luckily I was able to find something.”

 

‘Something’ turned out to be an adjustable bodice that wrapped around her in layers and was pulled tight, skirts that gathered up on one side, and soft tights for underneath them. An assortment of leather boots that were being made for Leliana’s scouts were brought in to check for fit, and a pair selected for her. “Not quite appropriate but it’s what our resources are going towards at the moment,” Josephine opined. Finally, a cropped jacket to cover her shoulders and keep her vaguely warm was slid onto her from behind. Josephine nodded in begrudging satisfaction. “It is better, at least. Now let us lunch!”


	6. Apologies

Emma and Josephine were still eating when Cullen returned. Most of the hour had been spent on bathing and dressing. “Cullen, please do join us,” Josephine entreated as he walked into her office. 

 

“Ah. You’ve only just started. No, thank you. I will come back.”

 

“Please, Commander?” Emma wasn’t sure her own request would help but felt the urge to make sure he knew she didn’t hate him, despite her harsh words. “I heard a rumor that you often forget to eat.”

 

He hesitated a moment. “I suppose I do,” he said a bit gruffly, before sitting down next to her. He paused as he did so, noticing Emma’s changed appearance.

 

“Did I do not do well? She looked like a such a ragged and wayward thing with her strange, muddy clothes. Not at all befitting an advisor to the Inquisition.”

 

“I am right here, Josie!” Emma laughed. 

 

Cullen frowned. “Cassandra and Leliana have not made a decision on that yet.”

 

Josephine waved his comment away. “Nonsense. Leliana has been investigating and has come up with nothing to indicate her presence here prior to the explosion. She is clearly telling the truth.” Emma gave her a little smile. “But you forget your manners, Cullen. I gave you a perfectly good opportunity to compliment two women at once and you brushed right passed it to talk about business.” 

 

Cullen gave a beleaguered sigh. He turned to look at Emma and she blushed under his gaze, remembering everything she had said.

 

“You don’t have to say anything, Commander,” she murmured.

 

“No. You uh… you look... lovely.” Cullen was looking directly into Emma’s eyes until he said that last word. He dropped his eyes to floor and reflexively moved his hand to the back of his neck. “We should be going.” 

 

Cullen moved swiftly out the door and Emma had to scamper to catch up with him. “Commander, wait, please.” She reached out and put her hand on his forearm to get his attention. He stopped, looking at where where hand was placed on him. “Can we please talk for a moment?” His expression shifted, embarrassed. “Please, come sit down over here.”

 

Emma sat across from him, so she could look him in the eyes. She noticed for the first time their amber colour. “I wanted to apologise-”

 

“Please don’t.” His voice was hoarse.

 

“I understand if you don’t want to hear it from me.”

 

“No. It’s… you were right.” Cullen shook his head, casting his eyes downward.

 

“I was unfair. And cruel.” Emma scanned his face, looking for signs that he was hearing her.

 

“It was true.” Cullen paused and looked back up at her. “I was surprised that you knew about Kirkwall. Did you uhh… see it?”

 

Emma wasn’t prepared for that question. She didn’t want to lie to him, but she also didn’t want to tell him everything she knew. He didn’t need to know how much she knew about his trauma, Kirkwall and Kinloch Hold _.  _ So she shook her head, and she lied. “I don’t see backwards, I only see potential futures. I just heard about it. I should not have thrown that at you. It wasn’t okay.”

 

“I was not a good person,” he said stiltedly. “I am trying to do better.” Cullen’s body was held stiff. She could feel the effort of his control and reserve. It made her want to reach out to him, touch his face, embrace him. She felt a familiar tug in her belly when she looked at him.  _ Oh.  _

 

“That’s all anyone can do. All we can ask of ourselves.” She whispered the words. They were just for him. They sat in silence for a few moments. “Should we go now?”

 

Cullen nodded and rose, stiffly, not looking at her.  _ Shit. I really fucked with his head.  _

 

\--

 

They arrived together at Maxwell’s hut and Cullen stopped. “Solas is inside. Cassandra wants him to go over the items you arrived with. I will not leave you.”

 

“You can Commander. I don’t want you to feel that-”

 

“I will not leave you alone with the apostate mage. He has been with us for only a few days. He appears genuine in his desire to close the Breach but beyond that, he is an unknown.” His words were forceful and brokered no argument. It was moments like this when Emma saw that he spent his time as a leader. It was a stark contrast to the hesitation and uncertainty he showed before.

 

Emma opened the door and saw Solas leaning over Maxwell, working more of his healing magic. She was still angry, and became more angry when he turned to look at her with a mildly amused expression on his face. “Ah. Lady Bennett, good to see you again.”

 

Emma glared. “Stuff it.”

 

Solas turned towards Cullen. “Commander, I have a report of what I discovered from her dreams here for you.” He handed Cullen a roll of paper.

 

“Oh. Umm… I’ll have it delivered to Leliana.” Cullen had the decency to look embarrassed when Emma looked at him in shock.

 

“No need Commander. I have already had one delivered to her. That copy is for you.” 

 

“Ah.” Cullen avoided looking at Emma. He read the piece of paper, and tucked it in his pocket.

 

“You knew what he did? You knew he… invaded me? My mind? While I fucking slept?” Emma had turned on Cullen.

 

He stammered and blushed under her words. “I, uhh… It was felt to be a good way to ascertain whether your story was accurate. When Solas said he could do it, we... all of us, agreed.”

 

“Right. So you don’t trust him except to mess around in my mind,” she responded bitterly. “What did you learn then, Commander?” She put all her anger into spitting out that last word, twisting it into something ugly. She didn’t even think to be frightened that it revealed anything suspicious.

 

“Just that you appear to be from somewhere far away and strange… and that you are clearly frightened of the Breach. That there is no reason to think you caused it or are related to it in any way.”

 

“I hope it was worth it,” she muttered. “You may go, Commander. It appears I have nothing to fear from this mage that you would not condone yourself.”

 

Cullen lowered his eyes. “I would rather not. But I will respect your wishes if that is truly your desire, my lady.”

 

“It is.” Cullen hesitated, giving her a pained look, but he turned and left without protest.

 

“I do not understand why you are so upset.” Solas raised an eyebrow at her. “Surely you knew that a competent leader would use all tools at their disposal to ensure the safety of their people.”

 

“That doesn’t make it any less invasive or offensive or… fucked up.”

 

Solas, to her surprise, assented with a single nod of his head. It wasn’t a response that said he agreed, but that he understood her feelings. “Perhaps we can speak of the items that accompanied you through the rift then?”

 

Emma was curious as well, she barely recalled what she had come with. She walked over to her purse and the box of John’ stuff. She noticed a bow leaning up against the wall near them.  _ Must be Maxwell’s.  _ They started with the box of John’s items.  _ A jersey, great. Super helpful.  _ “It’s clothing.”

 

“It does not seem very practical.”

 

“No.”  _ His waffle iron. Possibly even less useful.  _ “This… we used it to make breakfast. I don’t think I have a way to use it here.”  _ A solar charger.  _ “I have a device in my bag. It gets power from this.”

 

“It is magically powered by this cube? Is this some form of dwarven contraption?” Solas turned it in his hands, puzzled. “I do not sense magic from this.”

 

“No. It uses the sun. It takes energy from the sun and puts it into other things if you have the right connection. Does that make sense? I don’t know how to explain it to you.” 

 

“Do you use it to power a weapon?”

 

“What? No! Just, this.” Emma pulled out her phone from her bag and handed it to him.

 

“Another cube?” 

 

“We used it to communicate over long distances. That part won’t work here so mostly it is just a music and picture box now, I guess.”

 

“Show me.”

 

Emma took the phone and pulled open her photo album. With Solas looking over her shoulder, she flipped through photos of her old life.  _ Friends. John. Her parents.  _ Emma didn’t even realise she had started crying until a tear dropped onto the screen in front of her. She brushed the remainder away and navigated to the music section. She chose something she hoped wouldn’t be too shocking and strange, a cellist she quite enjoyed.

 

“A pretty toy,” he commented mildly. “Let us move on.”

 

Remaining items were also mostly useless. Keys, wallet, makeup, a condom, John’s shaving cream, his electric toothbrush, a sweatshirt she had borrowed from him. Even her Swiss army knife seemed a bit silly here. Other than her phone and the memories held on it, the only items Emma was pleased to find were a few tampons ( _ if only I had more than a few) _ , a lighter (mostly full), and three joints. 

 

Solas had been intrigued by the lighter’s ability to make fire without magic, until Emma explained that a spark lit gas that was stored inside. Then it, too, became mundane.

 

“Your world is strange and impractical,” Solas commented. Emma’s ears pricked up at his use of words.

 

“You say ‘world’ as though you think I am from a different one.”

 

“Perhaps you are. Your home certainly seems very different. It is not for me to say. It is only for me to say that I believe you are not a threat to us and should be allowed your freedom. I will tell Cassandra as much.”

 

“Mhm. Can I take my stuff and go then?”

 

“By all means.”

  
Emma hauled all her stuff into the single box and trudged out the door with it. She promptly realised she had no idea where her little hut with John was located. She had followed Cullen to and from it without actually paying much attention.  _ Shit.  _ She began walking in the direction she thought it might be and found something even better.


	7. Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this fic is rated explicit but just a heads up that here be smut.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Everyone who has left me a kudos totes made my day. <3

“Varric!” Emma called as she skipped over to him. “It is so nice to see a friendly face.”

 

The dwarf looked startled for only half a second before he delivered a roguish grin. “Sure. Nice to finally see you too, Visions.” He was exactly like he’d appeared in game, right down to the exposed chest hair that dared the cold to come at him.

 

“Right. Sorry. We haven’t met and I’m a huge weirdo.”

 

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m used to strangers knowing who I am. One of the side effects of being famous.” He winked and waggled his eyebrows at her.

 

Emma laughed. “I’ll have you know that I’ve never read a single one of your books.”

 

Varric gasped. “That is not acceptable. I will have a signed copy delivered to you first thing.” He paused, “so why did you need to see a friendly face. Someone giving you trouble?”

 

“Try everyone,” she groaned. “They all keep saying that they trust me to my face while spying on me and demanding answers.”

 

“I think they just want to trust you more than their positions really allow. They’re good people, you know. Surly, grumpy, and unpleasant sometimes. But good people.”

 

“Yeah, they’re real gems,” she said, still feeling surly herself. “Hey, Varric? Everyone will be busy tomorrow when the Herald wakes up and I don’t exactly know what I’m supposed to be doing with myself. Will you hang out with me?”

 

“Sure thing, Visions. I’ll meet you in the tavern for lunch and we’ll have a grand afternoon.”

 

Emma smiled. “Thanks. Umm… one more question. I might be able to see the future… but I am super directionally challenged. Do you know where my cabin is?”

 

Varric snorted in a surprised laugh. “Yeah Visions. Everyone knows where the ‘future-seeing-witch’ sleeps. I can take you there.” He stood up and started walking, mocking her the entire way.

 

\--

 

John was once again already in the room. “Where do you go all day while I’m stuck in the kitchens?” he asked petulantly while he faked picking at his pants.

 

“Well, today I watched some training and talked to a girl having a panic attack and got interrogated by a magic elf about our stuff. Which I have brought. You’re welcome for the clean shirt and sweater.”

 

John looked up at her then. “And you got a new set of clothes.”

 

“I did! How do I look?” Emma did a silly twirl for him.

 

“You look delicious.” John stood up and walked over to her, taking the box out of her arms.

 

“Leave it to the chef to make that compliment,” Emma rolled her eyes, trying to brush it off.

 

“Mm.” John put the box down, and before Emma knew what was happening, his lips crashed against hers. He ran his hand up her side, before wrapping it around her back and pulling her close. It was so warm -so familiar- and Emma sunk into it a little bit, eyes fluttering closed. 

 

_ This is a bad idea.  _ She pulled away. “John, what are you doing?” 

 

“This is a ridiculous situation. Forget the break up. I want you.”

 

“John, I-”

 

“Look, it doesn’t have to mean anything. I just- I miss you. And when you walked in here, wearing  _ that… _ I could devour you. Let me have you.”

 

Emma shivered slightly at his words and nodded. His mouth was on hers again in a flash, both hands gripping her hips. This time, her mouth parted for him, letting him taste her. When he moaned into her mouth, she felt a heat build between her legs. She slipped her hands under John’s shirt and ran them up his chest, feeling familiar muscles. He responded by pulling her hips into him, so they pressed tightly together. She could feel him hard against her and he unconsciously rubbed himself into her with a groan.

 

John pushed Emma’s jacket back off of her shoulders and dropped it to the floor. He kissed the exposed skin before pulling off his own shirt. He returned immediately to her shoulders and neck, kissing and nibbling his way to her ear where he growled, “I am so hard for you.” Emma gave a little whimper and tried to focus on keeping her legs stable. He slowly moved her back towards the wall and she leaned into it for balance.

 

He dragged his hands down her body as he lowered himself to kneel in front of her. He grabbed a boot and pulled it off, then reached for the second one. When he was done, he spread the gap in the front of her skirts, reaching his hands inside to the edge of her leggings and pulled them down her legs. He grabbed her left leg and bit the inside of her thigh gently. “John,” she breathed reflexively, pressing her palms into the wall as he brushed his tongue across her clit, teasing her.

 

He stood up and pressed her into the wall with his body, seeking her lips with his own and pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth. “Emma,” he growled back at her as reached down between them and ran his finger along her folds. She shuddered at his touch. “You are so wet.” He pushed a finger inside her and found her clit with his thumb, circling it slowly.

 

“Unh- Fuck, John.” He swallowed her protests with his mouth and kept circling the one spot he knew she wanted him to touch. “Please,” she begged into his lips. 

 

Rather than acquiesce, he pulled his finger out of her and pushed her onto a bedroll. She bit her lower lip and watched while he pulled down his pants and freed himself, kicking them aside. He dropped to his knees and began to crawl towards her. “Wait, John.”

 

“We already went over this,” he growled as he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her down the bedroll towards him.

 

“No, it’s just… there’s a condom in that box. I need you to get it.”

 

John froze. “We didn’t used to use condoms. You don’t really think I’ve been so careless in a couple of weeks that we need that?”

 

Emma sighed. “It’s not that. I don’t have any birth control here.” He grunted and leaned over to the box, fishing around until he found the condom that was in her purse. She took it out of his hands and pushed him backwards so he was resting on his knees. His cock twitched in anticipation as she opened the package. He knew what she was going to do; he’d loved it when they first started dating. She placed the condom over him and unrolled it down his length with her mouth and a moan. He ran a hand through her hair as he watched his cock disappear between her lips.

 

As soon as it was in place he grabbed her again and pushed her down on the bed, spreading her legs with his knee. He lined himself up and rubbed his length in her wetness, making her gasp before thrusting into her all at once. He held himself deep inside her and groaned his pleasure. He moved slowly at first. “Fuck Emma. It’s been too long.” She didn’t respond but turned her face up towards him and he captured her mouth with his.

 

He kept moving inside her slowly, letting the anticipation of orgasm build. Their heavy breathing was the loudest noise in the room. He lazily brought his hand back between them and finally began rubbing a finger across her clit. Emma immediately arched her back with a soft cry. “Yes, there. Yes.” Her orgasm hit her in a wave and in response John stopped his slow thrusting and moved his hips faster against her. 

 

He braced his hands above her shoulders for leverage and thrust harder into her, moving faster in his search for release. Each thrust was accompanied by a guttural grunt. His hips stuttered as he hit his own orgasm with a loud groan-

 

And ice flashed out from his hands, freezing the bedroll where he had planted them.


	8. Making Friends

“What do I do?” John was curled in the corner staring at his hands like they had betrayed him.

 

“Shit. I don’t know. I guess we tell someone?”

 

“What are they going to do to me?”

 

“I- I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers, John. I mean, on the one hand these are the good guys and they will want to help you. But they also keep mages in Circles, and we swore up and down that you weren’t one.”

 

“Keep mages in… circles?”

 

“Umm… think of it like being locked inside Hogwarts and you can only leave with Templars, like the one who was watching you the first day.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We can’t tell them. We have to keep it a secret.”

 

“We can’t.”

 

“Of course we can! I am not going to be locked away- it’s bad enough that I’m trapped in some crazy video game world!” John’s voice was getting louder as his fear took over.

 

“Shhh. I know, come here.” Emma wrapped John in her arms, hoping the contact would somehow lessen the impact of what she was about to say next. “We have to tell someone because mages in this world are vulnerable to demons. They… possess them. But you can learn how to protect yourself, how to recognize them and fight them.”  _ Of course, sometimes that doesn’t work either.  _

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Can we just… wait until tomorrow at least? I’m not sure I’m ready to turn myself in just yet.”

 

Emma nodded, pretty sure that he wouldn’t be possessed in his first night after discovering his magic. They curled up, holding each other tightly, but neither one got much sleep.

 

\--

 

In the end, Emma told John to go back to the kitchens. In her panic, she had forgotten that this was the day that the Herald would be waking up. Everyone would be busy with the official announcement of the Inquisition. Not to mention, she didn’t even know what kind of Herald he would be yet. It seemed safer to wait until at least evening, and consider whether Solas or Cullen would be the better choice to approach.

 

There were no guards outside their hut that morning. Emma snorted thinking of how suspicion had finally been removed just in time for them to dredge it back up again. She made her way to Maxwell’s cabin, which was central and thus easier to find than her own. Solas wasn’t there.  _ Good.  _ She stood over him for a moment, looking down at his tan skin and shaggy hair.  _ He’s really quite handsome,  _ she thought idly. 

 

She pulled a chair over to his bed, resolved to wait and think.

 

_ Solas will be leaving soon for the Hinterlands. Would he even want to help John? He’s probably all focused on his god issues. But Cullen won’t trust John, he might want to lock him up again. Can we wait until Vivienne or Fiona or Dorian or anyone else gets here? Probably not safe. _

 

Emma was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Maxwell stirring beside her until an arm reached out and a hand reached into hers. “Welcome back,” she murmured.

 

At that moment, an elf entered carrying clean clothes, blankets and other assorted items and gasped, promptly dropping her delivery. “I- I’m so sorry.” She looked at Maxwell, and then back at Emma, and fled the room. 

 

“What was that about?” Maxwell’s voice was a sleepy grumble.

 

“She wasn’t expecting to see the Herald of Andraste awake and the creepy seer sitting with him, I assume.”

 

“The Herald of- oh for Maker’s sake!” He groaned and rolled his eyes.

 

“Don’t be so grumpy. You’re a hero.”

 

“If you’re the seer, then the only reason I’m alive is because of you.”

 

Emma waved away his comment, knowing it to be false. “Nonsense. You would have been fine. You were at best slightly more prepared because of my words.”

 

Maxwell snorted. “You are the one who speaks nonsense. I may be their hero, but you are mine.” With those words, he reached out and pulled Emma off her chair and into an embrace on his bed. He nuzzled his face into her neck. “Don’t you say that you aren’t ever again.” He paused then before laughing a question. “What’s your name?”

 

Emma didn’t know what to do. She was suddenly laying in a stranger’s bed, in a stranger’s arms. “It’s Emma. This is umm… very forward.” She managed.

 

This time his laugh was loud and free. “Trust me, Emma. If I wished to seduce you, this would not be how I went about it.”

 

“Oh thank go- the Maker.” She relaxed a little. “You’d better get up though. Cassandra will want to see you in the Chantry and fill you in.”

 

He sighed, and actually pouted a little. “It’s always business with them.”

 

She couldn’t help but smile at his petulance. “To be fair, the world is in danger. You’ve also been unconscious for three days.”

 

“Three days? Andraste’s tits!” With that he jumped out of bed, and Emma noticed he was only wearing underwear and blushed. He smirked at her knowingly. “Oh, come now. Like you’ve never seen a hero in his small clothes before?” But he quickly pulled on clothing and darted out the door.

 

_ Well, he’s friendly enough.  _ Emma didn’t really feel like she knew what kind of an Inquisitor he would be yet, what choices he would want to make, but she took comfort in the idea that he might just want her opinions on them.  _ Maybe I’ll have a safe space here... until the end of the story.  _

 

\--

 

Emma headed to the tavern. She was early for lunch with Varric, but she’d skipped breakfast and her stomach was rumbling. The tavern was quiet, only a few people milled around. She suddenly realised that she’d never attempted to get food on her own and had no idea if she was supposed to pay or if it was on offer from the Inquisition - especially since the Inquisition was only being made official today.

 

She approached the counter and waved Flissa over. “Flissa, this is super embarrassing but I don’t have any coin.”

 

Flissa raised her eyebrow and gave her an appraising look. “You are the seer, aren’t you?”

 

“... Yeah.” Emma mumbled her answer, not needing anyone to hear.

 

“Josephine instructed me that your bills were being attended to by herself.”

 

Emma nodded, “Thank you. I’ll honestly take whatever is convenient.” A hot tea and leftovers from breakfast were placed in front of her and she brought them to a quiet corner, determined to be inconspicuous until Varric arrived. 

 

It didn’t work.

 

A soldierly type deposited himself across from her and slid a drink across the table. Emma could tell from the smell that it was ale. “No thanks. I’m still working on my tea.”

 

He shrugged before flashing her a smile . “When you’re finished then.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be training?”

 

“The Commander was called away for a big meeting. Made it easy to sneak off. He’s been running us ragged.” The soldier rolled his eyes.

 

“He does it for a good reason.” Emma tried to keep her voice mild. She took a sip of tea. 

 

“I’m already better than half the recruits there. I’m sure it will be fine. So, you were with him at training the other morning.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“You’re the seer.”

 

Emma said nothing.

 

“Go on seer, tell me my future.”

 

She sighed, “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t just see your future because you want me too.”

 

He laughed, but it was cold and didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ll see me in your visions soon, seer.” He dragged the last work out. “I’ll be at the centre of it all. I’m a man to watch out for.”

 

“I’m sure you are.”

 

He frowned, irritated with her disinterest. “You’re not so special,” he hissed. Emma looked around, suddenly feeling cornered. She saw Varric standing in the middle of the room, looking around for her.

 

“Varric! Over here,” she called. He walked over and plopped down in a free chair.

 

“I have a present for you,” he said, waving a book in the air.

 

“Ooh! Is it signed and everything?” Emma giggled.

 

The soldier stood up abruptly. “Enjoy your beer,” he grumbled before stalking off.

 

Varric raised an eyebrow and jerked a thumb in the direction of the exiting soldier. 

 

“Wanted me to tell him what a special hero he was going to be.” She looked into her empty tea and eyed up the ale sitting in front of her.  _ It’s probably not poison.  _ She took a swig. It was strong.

 

“Like we don’t have enough heroes around here between you and the great Herald,” Varric laughed.

 

“I’m not a hero. I was in a jail cell for the whole thing! Could we please talk about anything else?”

 

Varric shrugged. “We could talk about how charming and amazing I am instead.”

 

“Deal.”

 

They spent a few hours shooting the shit together, laughing and trying to one-up each other’s stories. Varric usually won, but Emma at least appreciated that he didn’t stop to question the accuracy of every strange thing she said. In the moment, she forgot completely about John. She hadn’t laughed that much since she had arrived in Thedas. 


	9. Help

 

Emma decided to spend some time outside during late afternoon with Varric’s book. It was chilly though, and her jacket was light so she snuck into Maxwell’s cabin and stole a blanket. She plunked herself underneath a tree, wrapped in the blanket, and began to figure out what version of the game she had found herself in. She had gotten about as far as Hawke being a male mage before she saw Cullen walking with a tattooed man who looked suspiciously familiar and exchanging reports and instructions.  _ Is that Lieutenant Rylen?  _ When the second man ran off, Cullen stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he pulled his hand away, he spotted Emma. He took a step towards her before appearing to think better of it and hesitating.

 

She sighed.  _ Here we go, I suppose.  _ “Commander,” she called. “Can I speak with you a moment?”

 

Cullen smiled and approached. “Greetings, Lady Bennett. It is good to see you have made yourself comfortable.” She thought he might be teasing her but she was still too angry to play games.

 

“I need your help Commander.”

 

His expression turned serious, concerned, all at once. “Of course, anything I can do for you… you need only ask.”

 

“It’s about John.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“He… umm… I guess he did magic? Ice came from his hands.”

 

Cullen’s face was unreadable. He simply nodded.

 

“I swear we didn’t know. We weren’t lying when we said he didn’t have magic…”

 

“I believe you.”

 

“Do you? Because you’ve said that before and you still went behind my back to arrange secret tests and stuff.” She said this with a little more bitterness than was perhaps appropriate since she was asking for help.

 

Cullen looked at her sadly. “I am sorry that my actions hurt you. Come, let us find John.”

 

They found him in the tavern, where he was having an ale with an elf who worked in the kitchen with him. As soon as he saw Emma and Cullen approaching, he knew what it was about and asked the elf to give him some space. They sat across from him and a heavy silence fell over the table.

 

Cullen is the one who eventually broke it. “Tell me what happened.”

 

“I uhh… froze a bedroll with my hands?”

 

“When?”

 

“Last night.”

 

“And you waited this long to tell anyone?” Cullen’s face was less sympathetic now. He looked more like the stern Commander than someone coming in friendship to help.

 

“Yes, sir.” John looked down into his ale as Cullen glowered at him. When Cullen turned to look at Emma, she met his look with a defiant glare of her own.

 

He sighed. “Tell me exactly how it happened. What it felt like.”

 

John kept looking into his ale but Emma thought she saw a glimmer of a smirk pass over his face. “Well, you see sir, I don’t really know. I was focused on feelings in other areas at the time that were rather uhh… distracting.” 

 

Emma could see Cullen connecting the dots in his head.  _ Nighttime. Froze a bedroll. Distracting sensations. Self-satisfied tone.  _ She imagined him thinking those words as a look of surprise crossed his face, followed by him blushing and bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. He cleared his throat. “I see. That… it is not unusual for mages to experience their first instance of magic during an intense emotional moment, though you experienced this at an older age than is normal.” He sighed. “Nonetheless, it is a shame you cannot remember how it occurred. It will make it more difficult to start training you, but we will do what we can. I will send Lysette tomorrow to work with you.”

 

John nodded. He glanced over at the elf he had previously been sitting with. She was laughing with a small group of other elves that looked like they probably also worked in the kitchens, or doing some other form of servant work. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to something resembling a normal conversation?” Cullen nodded his assent but turned to Emma in confusion when he heard her giggle. She waved away the implied question.  _ Try telling him I’m laughing because John just referred to a conversation with elves as normal. _

 

“I had better get going. I have some reports to read…” He made no move to leave, however.

 

“Something wrong?”  _ Not that I care,  _ she told herself.

 

“I just realised that I have not eaten since this morning,” he admitted.

 

Despite her grumpiness at him, Emma laughed. “So what I said about you forgetting to eat?”

 

He nodded bashfully. “It was not incorrect… Perhaps you would keep me company while I eat?”

 

Emma paused. She wanted to tell him no. Tell him to piss off. Despite it all, she really did like him.  _ You liked him when he was a video game character too.  _ A sly voice wound through her thoughts.  _ Shut up!  _

 

_ He’s more handsome in person, isn’t he?  _

_ Shut up, shut up! _

 

“Alright, Commander.” He waved Flissa down and ordered them some food and drink.

 

“What book are you reading?” He asked, gesturing to Varric’s book sitting on the table. She could tell he was trying to keep the conversation safe and light.

 

“This,” she lifted the book to show him the cover, “is my personally signed copy of Tale of the Champion.” She grinned at him. “I’d guess it was worth money but I think Varric will sign and hand these things out to anyone who will take them.”

 

Cullen looked at his hands. “I’m afraid reading that might ruin any remaining positive feelings you have towards me.”

 

“I- I already know most of it. I stand by what I said earlier. You’re trying to be better, and that’s all that matters.”

 

He shook his head. “Knowing the thrust of my actions is not the same as reading it in detail. Varric doesn’t portray me kindly- nor should he have.” Emma didn’t know what to say, and eventually he continued. “Maker’s breath... I appreciate you humoring me and agreeing to eat with me but I understand if you dislike me enough to wish to eat elsewhere.”

 

“I don’t dislike you, Commander. I actually like you quite a bit.” Emma tried hard not to blush. “That’s why it hurt so much… what you did. You seemed to be becoming a friend and-”

 

Cullen stopped her by grabbing a hand she was gesturing with. “I would like to be friends. Very much, my lady. Could we start over?”

 

Emma felt heat stubbornly rising in her face as he held her hand tightly. “Yes, okay,” she murmured. He let go of her hand then. “But please, no more of this ‘my lady’ stuff. My name is Emma.”

 

“As you wish, Lady Emma.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  _ Close enough. _ At that moment, Flissa arrived with a vegetable stew, warm buns, and two ales for them. “Does anyone here ever drink water?” she laughed.

 

“Now where would the fun be in that?” Maxwell slid into the chair abandoned by John earlier, his own ale accompanying him. “Emma darling, I hear I have you to thank for my impending trip to the Hinterlands?” He followed his words by bringing her hand to his lips. She raised an eyebrow at him, remembering how he’d pulled her into his bed that morning.

 

“It will be good for the Inquisition,” she said in a measured tone.

 

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “To bring more Chantry folks here? It’s not exactly like Roderick has been a gem.”

 

“Mother Giselle is different.”

 

“You are immeasurably persuasive, my dear,” he teased. He leaned back in his chair. “I am so glad you’ve become acquainted with our stalwart Commander here. I hear someone needs to make certain he eats occasionally.”

 

Cullen looked up from his stew. “Is everyone here being kept apprised of my eating habits?”

 

“Oh you don’t need to worry, Commander. It’s simply that Emma and I are of one mind, bonded at the soul through our experiences. We cannot help but think the same.” Emma giggled into her ale. This Herald was ridiculous. Fun, but ridiculous. She wondered how Haven would cope once Dorian arrived and they were both running around saying such ridiculous things.

 

Cullen took a couple more bites and stood up. “I must return to work,” he announced.

 

“Of course you must,” Maxwell quirked a grin at him.

 

“Good night Commander. And thank you, for John.”

 

“You’re welcome... Lady Emma.” He gave a tense bow and left.

 

“I’ve known that man less than a day and I believe he may well be the tightest wound person in Ferelden.” Maxwell took a swig of his ale and laughed at his own joke.

 

Emma hummed thoughtfully in response.


	10. Quiet Time

It was two days before Maxwell left for the Hinterlands with Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. They departed with two wagons of supplies for the refugees in the Crossroads, at Emma’s urging. Josephine had made some loud statements about calling in favours to pay for those supplies but her warm heart meant it would happen no matter how it had to get done.

 

Emma had spent most of that time with Maxwell and Varric, really only seeing John in the evenings. He still spent mornings in the kitchens, enjoying the normalcy, the routine, and the conversation. Afternoons were reserved for Lysette. They hadn’t spoken about what happened between them. They mostly only talked about John’s training. His magic was erratic but Lysette apparently suggested he was learning control quickly. 

 

The morning of the departure, Emma pulled Maxwell aside. “I keep seeing an image of a warden, wandering in the Hinterlands.”

 

“Really?” Maxwell looked back towards Haven. “Leliana has been hearing strange rumors about the wardens but hasn’t been able to track any down or find out anything concrete. I’ll keep my ears open while we’re there.” He kissed her hand in farewell. “You are invaluable, as ever.” She heard Cassandra snort her disapproval at his display. “Uh oh, the Seeker is upset. Better get going.” He winked at her as he headed out of Haven, and Emma was surprised to note that she felt sad to see him go.

 

She wandered Haven listlessly that day, eventually found herself watching the soldiers as they trained. Emma spotted Rina, who gave her a shy wave before returning to her companions. She seemed comfortable and happy. 

 

Cullen was sparring with a recruit, demonstrating defensive skills. He held only a shield, while the soldier he was sparring with was gifted with both a sword and a shield. She enjoyed watching him move as he deftly sidestepped or blocked every attack from his partner, who was growing more and more tired. After a short time, Cullen saw his window and threw the recruit to the ground, using only his shield. He stepped on the recruit’s sword, easily disabling him. The watchers cheered, and Emma saw that the loser was was the same man who had bothered her at the tavern a couple days earlier.  _ The big damn hero-in-the-making.  _ He was scowling and he trudged off, avoiding the jeers of his fellow soldiers. 

 

“All right, that’s enough recruits! I’d like to see any of you best me either. What, no volunteers? That’s what I thought! Get back to your training then!” He pivoted away from the sparring ring, and spotted Emma watching.

 

“Lady Emma, it is good to see you.”

 

“You just saw me yesterday,” she teased. 

 

“I have seen you only in meetings for the past couple of days.”

 

“I am here now.”

 

“So you are,” he smiled. “Would you like to take a walk?”

 

“Don’t you have work to do?”

 

“After sending the Herald off this morning, things have taken a bit of a pause until we hear on his progress.” Cullen paused. “You spend a lot of time with the Herald.”

 

“Oh, I just adore him. He’s so much fun.” Emma smiled to herself. “I swear that when he and Varric get together they are competing to see who can make me laugh harder. I have to be careful to make sure I don’t wind up expelling ale through my nose.” She looked at him expectantly, waiting for a laugh that didn’t come. His expression was thoughtful, and perhaps pained. “Commander? Are you alright?”

 

He jolted and stopped walking. “I am fine, Lady Emma. I apologise.”

 

Emma searched his face for a clue.  _ Is he experiencing withdrawal already?  _ She couldn’t tell, so she simply waited. When he began walking again, she fell into step beside him but said nothing. After a bit, the silence began to itch at her so she broke it. “You are an excellent Commander, you know.” He said nothing in response and looked torn between denying her compliment and smiling at it. “Truly. I saw the way your men looked at you today. They respect and admire you. That’s a wonderful thing.”

 

Cullen blushed lightly. “It is an easy thing with soldiers this green. We will see if it lasts.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I should return to my duties. Thank you for the walk, my lady.” With that he hurried off.

 

Emma sighed, and resolved to grab Varric’s book and set up shop at the tavern for a bit.

 

\--

 

Emma was tearing through the book. Varric’s writing voice was as engaging and fun as his personality and it made his story immensely consumable. It helped that his Hawke was charming and delightful. She had always played a more serious, female Hawke. She thought she might be developing a bit of a crush on this version. 

 

At the same time, she cringed every time she read about Cullen. He came across perhaps even worse from Varric’s perspective than she remembered from the game. It was hard to reconcile Book-Cullen with the kind-hearted man trying to improve himself that she was growing to know.

 

Emma jumped when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Flissa smiled down at her kindly. “We’re closing up pretty soon, my lady.” Emma looked out the window in surprise. It was dark. She nodded and closed her book. 

 

Outside, Emma began to pick her way through cabins and towards her own tiny place with John -which she had finally learned the location of- when someone grabbed the back of her jacket. Despite the cold, she pulled out of her jacket on instinct and spun around to face her accoster. She couldn’t quite see the face in the dark, but it was a large male. He grabbed her shoulders and bashed her into a nearby wall. Taken by surprise, her head flew back into the wall - hard. She blinked. Her vision was swimming and she couldn’t quite organize her thoughts. The word concussion popped into her head and she almost formed the idea that she should yell for help, but it didn’t quite make it to her mouth.

 

“You going to tell me my future now, witch?” The voice was familiar but she couldn’t quite make sense of what was happening. She said nothing and a fist came crashing into the side of her face. She tasted blood.  _ What is happening?  _ “Tell me.” The voice was an angry hiss in her ear. She tried to form some type of response. Another fist, this one hit lower and connected mostly with her jaw.

 

“What… Help?” Her voice was barely above a whisper and her attacker laughed.

 

“No one is going to help a demon witch like you.” He pulled her away from the wall and threw her onto the ground. “Tell me what you know.” He was on top of her in a second, raising his fist again to let her know what would happen if she didn’t comply. Her eyes darted around, looking for something, anything that could help her.

 

Suddenly, the man flew off of her and landed somewhere with a crash. She heard words, orders maybe, that she couldn’t quite make sense of. Kind amber eyes appeared in front of her and a hand touched her face gently. “Lady Emma, are you alright? Can you speak to me?”

 

“C- Cullen?” was all she managed. She couldn’t work her brain; she was too tired. She felt strong arms wrapping around her and lifting her up, then everything went black.


	11. Recovery

 

When Emma awoke, she was in an unfamiliar cabin. She raised her head and was assaulted immediately with a sharp headache. She plopped her head back down with a displeased grunt.

 

“Ah. You are awake I see.”

 

Emma ran her eyes around the room as best she could from her fully prone position. She saw several bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling, along with jars and flasks with various contents on shelves. The source of the voice was not facing her but the room and his mage robes told her she was in Adan’s cabin.

 

“What happened?” Emma’s memory was fuzzy at best.

 

“You were attacked and have been brought here to recover.” Adan puttered around, not stopping to actually attend to her directly. “You will be fine of course. Not sure why you couldn’t have recovered in your own quarters, or in the healer’s tent with the other injured. It’s really not that serious- but, no. None of that is good enough for our Prophet. Better stick her in with Adan.” He was mostly grumbling to himself, but loud enough to ensure that Emma was hearing.

 

“I’m sorry to have been a trouble.”

 

“And you have been. Ruddy sick of the visitors, I’ll have you know. First I could barely kick the Commander out of here, then this morning… a man smelling of onions and meat like some sort of servant insisted he be allowed to see you.” Adan turned to glare at her briefly. “Don’t even get me started on Lady Montilyet’s visit this afternoon. Spent half the time lecturing me on manners and courtesy.” He snorted in disdain.

 

“I- I’ll just leave, Adan. I can lie in my own bed.”

 

“You most certainly will not. I am under strict instructions not to let you out of my sight until the Commander gives his leave.”

 

“Oh. Okay.” Emma was secretly grateful. She wasn’t sure how successfully she would make it to her own cabin with the pain in her head.

 

“Here. Drink this.” Adan handed her a potion and she sipped at it. It was bitter and made her tongue feel fuzzy. “The whole thing,” he instructed. She looked at it with skepticism but downed the rest in one unpleasant gulp.

 

She watched Adan idly for about two minutes before she felt the pull of sleep on her again and she let it take her without a fight.

 

\--

 

_ Emma was in her old apartment. She was curled up in blankets on her couch with a cup of tea in her hands and surrounded by piles of tissues. _

 

_ John was there. “How is your fever?” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “Still warm.” He sent a chill from his hand into her. “Much better.” He got up and Emma watched him walk across the apartment. A shadow jumped at him from a corner and Emma somehow knew it was a demon. John sent crackling lightning into it but it kept coming. She tried to get up and help him but she was trapped in the blankets on the couch. _

 

_ “No, John!” She shouted impotently- ill, weak, and trapped. _

 

_ Suddenly, a large sword crashed through the back of the demon and it wailed as it disappeared. Cullen was there. He marched over to her and crouched in front of the couch. “How are you feeling?” he asked. He brushed a damp strand of hair off of her forehead. _

 

\--

 

Emma felt a hand on her forehead, tenderly pushing aside her hair. The hand paused and ran it’s knuckles lightly down her cheek. She moaned slightly as she tried to wake up, and the hand disappeared.

 

When she fluttered her eyes open and looked around, she saw the door closing. She was left alone with Adan.

 

He nodded at her. “You are healed. Take a few moments to collect yourself, then you may leave.”

 

Emma touched her face, feeling for tenderness. She felt none, nor did she feel the headache she had the previous time she woke up.  _ Must have given me elfroot.  _ “Who was that?” she asked, gesturing to the door.

 

Adan rolled his eyes. “The Commander, coming to check on you again. Maker knows why he couldn’t stay as you woke up and actually help to move you out of here.” With that, he turned his back to her and began working on something she couldn’t see. 

 

\--

 

According to Adan, she had been passed out for a day and a half. It was late morning, two days after her assault. She figured John would be in the kitchens and went straight there to see him.

 

The kitchens were an overwhelming whir of movement. Men and women, mostly elven, moved around each other in a dance she couldn’t discern the pattern of. She stood at the entrance, lifting herself up on tip-toes to try and spot John. She was too scared of the speeding knives and hot pots of food to try and weave through the workers. 

 

Luckily she didn’t have to. A loud “Emma!” rang across the kitchen and before she knew it, John was embracing her. “I was worried about you, you know.”

 

She laughed. “What, you think I can’t take a punch?”

 

If she was expecting him to laugh with her, she was mistaken. He frowned and squeezed her hand. “You were unconscious for more than a day. You had a concussion.”

 

“I know,” she squeezed his hand in return. “But they have such fancy healing magic and herbs and things that I don’t even feel concussed anymore.” He nodded, looking somewhat consoled.

 

“Do you have some time?”

 

“Oh sure. I’m not even expected to be in the kitchens anymore. It just feels like home, you know? Kitchens are more or less the same chaos anywhere you go.”

 

Emma nodded as they walked outside. She wished she had found something like that. “How is your magic coming along?”

 

John grinned and winked at her as he made a fireball appear in his hand. “We’ve mostly been focusing on ‘the fade’ and ‘resisting demons’, but I made Lysette at least teach me one trick.”

 

“I’m glad you’re learning about the demons. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you…”

 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one saying that to you? Since you’re the one who got attacked.”

 

Emma felt a little uncomfortable and decided to change the topic. “You know, Adan was very upset that you came to visit me smelling of onions and meat.” John chuckled. “I never noticed before but you really do!” She made a show of sniffing him like a puppy.

 

“I normally hit the baths before I head back to the hut.”

 

“There are baths?!”

 

“Yeah, communal baths down that way.” He pointed for her and she let out an exasperated sigh.

 

“I’ve been using the bath in Maxwell’s cabin and making myself a right nuisance to him.”

 

John frowned at her. “You’ve been getting naked in another man’s cabin?”

 

“Okay, first, you don’t have any right to say who I get naked in front of right now. And second, he steps out while I bathe so don’t have a panic.”

 

There was a pause before John spoke again. “Do you ever think about if I did have a say? If we got back together?” John looked into her eyes searchingly. “I was so worried when you were unconscious and I’ve just been thinking about what it would be like if I never got a chance to kiss you again.” He reached for her face and she pulled away instinctually.

 

“I don’t know, John.” Emma stared at her hands as she picked at a fingernail. “Sometimes I think about it… but I think it’s just because this place is so strange and it’s so comforting to have you around. We were rubbish as a couple.”

 

“I still love you, Em.”

 

“I love you too.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll think about it, okay. I’m too messed up to promise more than that right now.” 

 

He nodded. “I think I’ll head back in.” He left her alone with her feelings and she shivered, suddenly aware of the cold Haven air.

 

\--

 

Emma found herself approaching Josephine’s office, appreciating that the woman had come to check on her. Also, she wasn’t ready to face Cullen yet. What does one say to the man who rescued them?

 

_ And touched your face so sweetly. _

_ Shut up! _

 

She knocked on Josephine’s door and heard the Ambassador’s voice inviting her in.

 

“Lady Montilyet,” she began. “I wanted to stop by and thank you for-” She stopped. Cullen and Leliana were both present, standing at Josephine’s desk. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting.”

 

“Not at all,” Josephine stood up and waved her inside. “We were just speaking of you, actually. It is good to see you awake.”

 

_ They were speaking of me? _

 

Emma shuffled her feet nervously. 

 

“Did the man say anything to indicate why he attacked you?” Leliana tilted her head to the side slightly as she asked. “I have been interrogating the prisoner but he has given no response.”

 

Something about the way Leliana shaped the word ‘interrogate’ gave Emma chills. “You didn’t… do anything to him, did you?”

 

Leliana pursed her lips. “I did not. He is still recovering from the thoughtless fury of someone else.” She looked meaningfully at Cullen, but Emma didn’t notice. She breathed a sigh of relief. The man had hurt her, yes, but she certainly did not believe in torture.

 

“He wanted me to tell him his future. He had asked me before and… I just don’t see anything of him, of his future.”

 

“Well, that is a relief,” Josephine commented.

 

“The way he was crouched over you. It looked like maybe…” Cullen looked away, embarrassed.

 

“How is that a relief?” Emma passed her gaze across the advisors in confusion. “Why does it matter why he attacked me?”

 

“It is one thing to make adjustments to protect one person who has been targeted. It is another completely if we have soldiers in our ranks who have been trying to sate their urges on unwilling women.” Leliana betrayed no anger with her voice. She was simply being pragmatic.

 

“Oh. Well, it was definitely about me…” It didn’t particularly make her feel better, as much as she knew she should be relieved that there weren’t soldiers running around sexually assaulting women. 

 

“We never asked about your previous work. Would it be fair to say that you are not adept in combat?”

 

Emma snorted. “More than fair. I worked at a wellness centre with folks who have PTSD. We had doctors but also offered yoga, massage, acupuncture, meditation, that sort of stuff. I was the social worker.” The advisors were all giving her blank looks. “And that means nothing to you. I guess I kind of talked to people and gave them information and strategies for healing their minds? I’ve literally never held a weapon.”

 

Cullen shook his head. “This was my oversight. I should have known you would be a target and ensured you could protect yourself.”

 

“We all should have known, Commander.” Leliana put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She will be an interest to many.”

 

“Indeed,” Josephine added. “I would not be surprised if we start receiving inquiries from interested nobles who have heard the rumors.”

 

Leliana nodded. “Not to mention assassins and kidnappers from less friendly parties.”

 

“You think I might be a target for assassins?!” Emma’s voice was embarrassingly shrill by the end of the question.

 

“This is why we will begin training you to defend yourself starting tomorrow.”

 

Josephine saw Emma’s fear and tried to reassure her. “Kidnapping is much more likely. Your skill is one that others will covet and not simply want to eliminate.”  _ That’s not much good if I can’t give them the information they want.  _

 

“Indeed. Commander Cullen has offered to begin training you, starting tomorrow.”

 

Emma looked up at him sharply. “Don’t you have too many duties for that?”

 

“There are few I would trust to have that amount of unmonitored access to you. Something like the other night could occur again.” He cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Rylen has nearly as many duties as I do, and Lysette is already working with John… I will make the time.”

 

Emma nodded, her eyes on her feet. She was embarrassed to be such a burden, but also secretly pleased at the opportunity to learn some useful skills.

 

_ And especially to have regular alone time with Cullen. _

_ Would you shut up?! _


	12. Training

Emma reported to Cullen’s tent first thing after lunch. She was surprised to learn his quarters and office were housed in a tent, while she had a more solid roof over her head. The structure was significantly larger, however, and contained a proper cot rather than simply bedrolls on the floor. There was an armor stand in one corner. Most of the space was taken up by a large desk covered in reports, maps, and stacks of books. The tent smelled of leather, sweat, and something woodsy. 

 

Cullen was sitting at his desk, writing implement perched above the page, but not writing. His eyes were squeezed closed and he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Commander?” She said tentatively. He jolted upright and looked at her in surprise. “Are you alright? Shall I come back later?”

 

He gave her a grim smile. “No. I am fine. We’ll get started.” He rose and walked with her out of the tent. She threw a couple of sideways glances at him, assessing, and thinking she was being subtle. His beleaguered sigh informed her that she was wrong. “You can stop appraising me, Lady Emma. It is simply a headache.”

 

“Sorry.” 

 

He turned and looked at her with a slight smirk. “It is not unexpected from the woman who harrasses me about my eating habits.” And then, “is that what you’re wearing?”

 

Emma looked down at the ensemble she had been sporting for the past few days. “It’s all I have, other than the clothes I arrived in.” 

 

He grunted. “It’s going to be too restrictive. Your skirts will get in the way, and you’ll get your only clothes muddy.”

 

“Well, what’s your fix Mr. Know-it-all?” She could see from the expression on his face that it took a moment for him to parse her question. He waved her back into his tent and pulled out a shirt.

 

“You can wear this over your leggings. Just leave the skirt, jacket, and bodice here. We’ll have them laundered.” With that, he exited the tent and left her to change.

 

All alone, Emma looked around. She had a strong urge to snoop, feeling like she was getting behind-the-scenes access to something secret. Something special. She shook her head and quickly changed instead, rushing out before she ran out of willpower.

 

Cullen had readied a practice sword and shield for her and she immediately went and began putting on the shield. When she turned towards him, she was struck by the way he was looking at her. There was something intense in his gaze and she briefly remembered how his eyes had roved over her legs the first time they’d met.  _ Stop it! Now is not the time to think about… that.  _ “Is something wrong?” 

 

Cullen blushed and reflexively rubbed the back of his neck, something he seemed to do as often in person as he did in the game. “Sorry. No, I… it’s been a long time since a woman has worn one of my shirts.” 

 

At that Emma blushed, but she had already determined to keep things friendly and light. “How about one of your opponents?” she countered as she picked up the practice sword and moved into what she thought might be a ready position.

 

Cullen laughed in response and the tension was released. “I can’t say that has ever happened.” The lightness only lasted for a moment before he frowned and shook his head. “You aren’t even holding that sword right.”

 

“Oh.” Emma looked down at her grip, embarrassed and confused. “How do I?” Cullen walked over to her and rotated the sword slightly in her hand, adjusting her fingers. He held her wrist lightly in one hand as he ran another up the inside of her forearm, shaping her arm’s angle. Even through his leather gloves, Emma could feel the strength in his hands and she felt a shiver run up her spine, unbidden.

 

“Are you cold?” he asked softly, his hands still on her.

 

“Umm… yeah.” She lied. “Better get moving, huh?”

 

“Indeed,” he agreed - but he lingered for another moment before moving away to pick up his own shield. “Alright Lady Emma, try and hit me.”

 

“What? Just like that? No lesson or technique?”

 

“I want to get a feel for how you move first; what your weaknesses might be.”

 

She wrinkled her nose in protest but stepped forward and swung at him. Her swing was slow and awkward. “Good. Again.” She pulled the sword back and swung from a different angle. He nodded. “Again.”

 

It was an hour before Cullen let her have a break. Her arm ached immensely and she thought her wrist might not bend the next day. She had hardly moved her shield arm but her shoulder was sore from the weight and she was tempted to throw both down in the dirt and petulantly refuse to work with them again.

 

She sat on a stump and happily accepted the waterskin he gave her. “Can I ask you a question, Commander?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Why a sword and shield? If the goal is to protect me from surprise attackers, I’m hardly going to be carrying these around. Wouldn’t it make more sense to train me in hand-to-hand?”

 

“Honestly, we thought that if you were seen working with more imposing weapons, it would operate as a dissuasion.”

 

“Ah. That makes sense,” she acquiesced, resolving to pick them back up again.

 

“It would, but quite frankly you are so tiny that you look less imposing holding them than not.” He slid her a teasing smile. 

 

“I am not that small!” She protested as a matter of principle, but she remembered the experience of occasionally trying on even extra-small sized clothing in her own world that draped on her and knew he was probably right.

 

“You are.” He took her hand and lay it on top of his much larger one. “See? I’m surprised your wrist actually survived practice.” He traced a finger over her wrist, chuckling. “We will try daggers tomorrow. I have a feeling you will be better suited to them as a weapon.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Certainly. This was an experiment only… and you happen to be terrible at this type of fighting.” She playfully punched him in the shoulder and he grinned down at her.

 

“My lady, a missive for you from the Herald.” A messenger had appeared out of nowhere. 

 

“For me?” Emma knit her eyebrows in confusion. She opened the missive, aware of Cullen beside her, reading along.

 

_ Emma, _

 

_ My most darling and favourite advisor. (Don’t tell Josie.)  _

 

_ We reached the Crossroads and found them in much the situation expected. Your supplies were well received. Mother Giselle is keen to return with us to Haven.  _

 

_ We have heard rumors of this Warden you mentioned and are going to investigate. Leliana sent a raven confirming the rest truly seem to have disappeared. Hopefully he knows something. _

 

_ I need your advice, if possible. Cassandra wants to track down a horsemaster that Inquisition scouts have been unable to get to. We will have to fight our way through the mage-templar conflict to get there. Is it worth investigating?  _

 

_ Your most devoted, _

_ Maxwell _

 

Emma pursed her lips, torn between chastising herself for forgetting to comment on the horsemaster and being concerned that the Herald was asking for her advice on something so minor. Is it possible she had played her hand too heavily and made him feel reliant on her?

 

She worried her bottom lip, considering how to respond. 

 

“The Herald seems quite fond of you,” Cullen commented stiltedly.

 

Emma giggled. “Guaranteed he told Josephine the same, and asked her not to tell me.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he murmured. “I should get to some work of my own. I will see you tomorrow, same time.”

 

Emma watched Cullen leave and couldn’t help but wonder if he was jealous.  _ No, I’m sure he’s not. It’s just me fangirling in my head. But maybe… Nope. Don’t go there. _

 

“My lady? Should I take a response now, or do you need some time?”

 

Emma jerked her head up. She had completely forgotten about the messenger. “Sorry. I am ready.” The messenger handed her a scroll and a quill. She wrote her response in scratchy script with the page spread over a log.

 

_ Maxwell, _

 

_ Your flattery does you no credit. I will not indulge you whatsoever. _

 

_ I have seen visions with beautiful mounts here at Haven. I cannot promise that this horsemaster is the source, you will have to use your own judgment. _

 

_ Your probably second favourite advisor, _

_ Emma _

 

She handed over her response and the messenger disappeared without a word.


	13. Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my 2-week anniversary on AO3! 
> 
> Also, I am just one kudos shy of 50! Thanks everyone who has sent those. They're super lovely and encouraging. Also, please comment and stuff. I would love to hear thoughts.
> 
> To celebrate, I'm going to post two chapters today :)

Emma was pacing, trying to work up the courage to go inside. She had promised herself she would go after training but she was waffling. “Okay Emma. You can do this.” She said the words out loud, much to the amusement of the guard watching her from the entrance. “You can keep your opinions to yourself.” She pointed at him accusingly and he barked a laugh.

 

When she told Leliana what she wanted to do that morning, the woman had been surprised but assured her that access would be granted. Emma had thought that would be the biggest hurdle to get over until after it was completed. It turned out that the butterflies in her stomach were a much bigger obstacle. “Okay. Here I go,” she announced as she marched passed the guard and down the stairs.

 

She found him quickly, there weren’t many prisoners in the jail. He was crumpled in the back corner of his cell, snoring softly. “Hey. Hey, wake up!” She kicked the bar of his cell, trying to work herself up. The man unfurled and glowered when he saw her. She was surprised to see that his nose had been broken and he had and two black eyes, along with a split lip.

 

“What do you want?”

 

She hesitated, warring between her multiple questions. “What happened to you?”

 

“What do you think?” He snorted. “Someone  _ objected _ to my behaviour.”

 

“Was it Leliana?”

 

“Aren’t you naive - Smashing someone’s face in anger isn’t exactly the Nightingale’s style.” Emma pursed her lips and waited. “If you want to know, talk to your precious Commander. Quite the level-headed leader your Inquisition army has.”

 

She simply nodded at his comment, refusing to show her surprise. “I came to ask why you attacked me.” The man shrugged, refusing to look at her. “No. I want to know. I told you I didn’t have any information for you. Why would you do that?” 

 

He shook his head in response. Emma waited, tapping her foot against a cell bar. “Why do you care? I hurt you. I’m in a cell. What more do you need?” He put on a show of sneering at her, but there was no malice in his voice.

 

“I just don’t understand.” Silence. She decided to try something different. “I guess I’m hoping I’ll feel better about it if I have some answers?”

 

The man looked surprised at her sudden vulnerability. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “Look. I was supposed to head out as part of an army to fight demons and who knows what else. If you don’t see my future then what in Andraste’s ass does that mean? If you did and weren’t telling, then that was even worse. If you had just given me something...”

 

“You were scared?”

 

“I was angry!” He shouted and marched towards her. “I’m better than the others! I shouldn’t be the one who dies!”

 

Emma focused on keeping her voice low and calm. She knew what it looked like when people expressed their fear as anger, and without a real threat of physical violence she slid into a more empathetic mood. “What’s your name?”

 

He raised his eyebrow. “Garin.” 

 

“I only see some things, Garin, and even then it can be fuzzy. Just because I don’t know your future, doesn’t mean you don’t have one.”

 

He turned around and leaned against the bars. She couldn’t see his face but a splash on the ground told her he was crying. She left quietly.

 

\--

 

“Hey. What’s going on? Are you okay?” John reached across the table and touched her hand. 

 

She smiled and took a bite of her stew to reassure him. She was aware that she’d barely said two words to him since they’d met at the tavern, and supposed she owed him some sort of explanation.

 

“I spoke to the man who attacked me today.”

 

“What? Why would you do that?” He was digging his nails into the back of Emma’s hand. When she grimaced, he let go with an embarrassed face.

 

“I just wanted to know why. He was scared John. These soldiers… so many of them are terrified. They have family and friends who died during the Blight and they had settled down, hoping war was over for their lifetimes. It just never ends. You can’t negotiate with demons and monsters. I- I just want to go home.” Emma’s voice cracked and she began to cry into her stew. 

 

“Hey now. It’s going to be okay.” John moved around the table and pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back softly. Emma sniffled into his armpits and nodded, but she didn’t really feel it. She pulled back a little, anxiety tugging at a need not to make a scene in public. John put a hand under her chin and lifted her face. He brushed a soft kiss across her lips before moving back to his chair.

 

That night, John held her in his arms and whispered comforting words of love and home. They put on some music and looked through old photos on Emma’s phone, having never found John’s, and Emma cried tears of loss and fear before eventually falling asleep.

 

\--

 

When Emma awoke, John was gone and someone was knocking on the door. An elf  was waiting with her clothing, freshly laundered, and a new pair of leggings. “Your presence is requested in the war room, my lady.” Emma nodded and took the proffered clothing items.

 

When she arrived, she found Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen all present. They were arguing about something, but stopped when Emma entered. Josephine gave her a wide smile. “Ah, Emma, good morning. What perfect timing you have. You have saved us from our endless bickering.”

 

“Something I can help with?” Emma asked tentatively.

 

“Unfortunately not. We’ve received a request from some relatives of the Herald who have heard of his lauded new title. We will have to await the Herald’s return before we decide how to respond.” Josephine responded. Leliana notably rolled her eyes, clearly having some established ideas about how to deal with the request.

 

“We wanted to speak with you about a matter that is slightly more personal.” Leliana gave her a meaningful look. “We have heard about your… emotional expression… last night at the tavern.”

 

Emma pressed her lips together and shuffled her feet. It appeared even the most boring news spread quickly. “I am aware that it was not entirely professional, Sister Leliana. I apologise.”

 

“Maker, no!” Cullen interjected. “We were merely concerned for your well-being.”

 

“And we wanted to see if you had any knowledge about how we might assist you in getting home,” Leliana added.

 

Emma shook her head, blinking back tears. “If I did, I assure you I would have said so already.”

 

Josephine reached out a hand to Emma’s shoulder. “We would be sad to lose your support and friendship, of course, but if we discover anything that might achieve that goal… we will pursue it.”

 

“Thank you Josephine. I appreciate that.” She sniffled, slightly. “I- While I’m here, I have a question.”

 

“Certainly.”

 

“What do you intend to do with the man who attacked me?”

 

Josephine frowned at the thought and Cullen banged his fist on the table. “The man should be executed.”

 

“I’m not sure you should get a say, considering the state of his face,” Emma shot back at him.

 

“He deserved it for what he did to you,” he grumbled. He looked away though, clearly ashamed.

 

“We had thought to make an example of him,” Leliana conceded.

 

“I would prefer you don’t. He… he was scared. It doesn’t excuse what he did to me, or even his stupid fake bravado, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”

 

“What would you suggest?”

 

Emma took a deep breath. “We could ask him what he thinks we should do with him?”

 

“That… is certainly unorthodox.” Josephine appeared both skeptical and intrigued.

 

“It’s something we used to do where I come from. I worked with people who experienced a lot of trauma. Sometimes they acted out, they used drugs, they wronged others. There are so many ways a person can cope poorly when they are hurting and scared. We used to ask them to think about how they could right the wrongs they were doing.”

  
Josephine nodded slowly, but she could tell none of them were convinced.  _ If I can bring just a little more kindness into this world, perhaps it will have been worth it.  _


	14. Daggers

Emma was tempted not to train with with Cullen that afternoon. She figured she was probably not as angry as she should be, but she still wanted him to know how badly he had fucked up. She eventually put his shirt on and marched to Cullen’s tent, resolved to give him a piece of her mind.

 

He was handing a missive to a messenger when she arrived. She paused, not wanting to chew him out with an audience. Cullen followed the messenger to the tent’s entrance and held the tent flap open for her. As soon as they left, he let the flap drop and turned to her. He was standing so close she could smell him.  _ Leather and sweat and wood.  _ “I would apologise to you, before you say anything.” Emma paused, waiting. “It was… unacceptable for me to hit an unarmed prisoner and I should not have let my emotions rule over me. I was just… What you said earlier about people doing bad things when they are scared? At the time I was scared for you... and ashamed that I did not prevent such an attack. Maker’s Breath. I am terrible at this.” He raised a hand to his forehead and looked at her earnestly from beneath it, brows furrowed, waiting for a reaction.

 

She sighed, deflated by his preemptive apology. “You make it very difficult to stay mad at you, did you know that?”

 

He grinned sheepishly in response. “I must admit to being thankful for that at this very moment.”

 

“Yeah, well, don’t think this means you’re off the hook.”

 

“Off the hook?”

 

“Umm… No longer in trouble.”

 

He nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps I could come up with a way to make it up to you?”

 

“I’m not the one you need to make it up to, Commander.”

 

He knit his brows together. “You want me to make amends to the prisoner? To the man who attacked you?”

 

“He’s the one you wronged. Not me.”

 

“He attacked you!”

 

He was still standing close, hovering over her, and Emma found herself nearly standing on her toes to challenge him. “And you attacking him did nothing to change that!” They glared at each other for a moment before he stepped back.

 

“You… you are right, of course. But you certainly have a strange way of doing things, Lady Emma.” 

 

“Well, maybe I’ll do you some good then.”

 

He paused. “Maybe you will.”

 

They stood, looking at each other warily. “Should we get started?”

 

Cullen nodded and lifted the tent flap. When they walked out, a couple of individuals were milling around and, startled, hustled on their way. “Apparently our conversation wasn’t exactly private.”

 

“Sorry.” Emma muttered just loud enough for him to hear. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially where others could hear. I- I guess sometimes my temper sometimes gets the better of me.”

 

“You don’t need to apologise. I believe me having that same problem is what started our argument in the first place.” He handed her two daggers. “Your job today is simply to try and hit me with one of these.” He grinned at her in a way that said  _ this isn’t going to be easy  _ and Emma felt immediately determined to prove him wrong. A sword and shield had felt awkward and restrictive but the daggers were light and allowed her to dance on her feet. 

 

Cullen picked up his shield and faced her head on.  _ Okay, the trick is getting him to turn so that thing isn’t facing me.  _ Emma began by slowly circling him and he rotated, moving the bare minimum to keep himself square to her. She watched him move, analyzing his movements, looking for weaknesses. She was pretty sure there were none and she giggled as she saw the futility of the task.

 

“Less laughing, more hitting,” he grunted at her. She went for it, moving with speed and throwing her daggers around at every perceived opening. He blocked every single one. “Good. You’re more confident with these.”

 

“I still haven’t come even close to hitting you though.”

 

Cullen chuckled. “I certainly hope not. If I can be bested by a girl trying out a weapon for the first time, I certainly shouldn’t be commanding an army.”

 

“A girl?” Emma glared at him pointedly. “I am not  _ a girl,  _ Commander. I am a grown ass woman who will not be condescended to.”

 

He blinked at her in surprise. “Uhh… right, of course. I apologise. I know you are a woman.” He dropped his head to rub the back of his neck. “Maker.” He breathed. Emma took advantage of his embarrassment and distraction to dart in and tap him with her dagger.

 

“Tut tut, Commander! So easily distracted… and by  _ a girl  _ no less!” She laughed and pranced away.

 

He smirked at her and raised an eyebrow. “It will not happen again, I assure you.” He reset his stance and they continued practicing. Emma didn’t manage to land another hit on him but she found herself smiling the entire time. 

 

When they took a break it was two hours later, but she was flushed and exhilarated rather than sore and cranky like she had been the day before. Her hair and Cullen’s shirt were both soaked with sweat and plastered to her body. “That was fantastic,” she breathed as he handed her a waterskin and sat next to her.

 

He chuckled lightly. “It’s actually fun for me too, to work with someone so enthusiastic.” He reached over and brushed a piece of damp hair off her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. Emma froze, an image of him did something similar after she was injured popping into her head. “Sorry.” He quickly removed his hand. “I don’t know what came over me.” He looked determinedly at his waterskin and took a swig.

 

“No, it’s fine. I just- I realised that I never thanked you.”

 

He looked at her in surprise. “For what?”

 

“For helping me, when Garin was…” She trailed off, picking at her fingernails.

 

“I didn’t realise you remembered.”

 

Emma shook her head. “Only barely, but I remember your face. Your eyes mostly… I’ve just been so self-involved lately that I forgot to say something.”

 

“I… was glad to be there. You are welcome, Lady Emma.”

 

“Can I ask you for something Commander?”

 

He fixed his eyes on hers and she felt warm and tingly. He was sitting so close, she wanted to trace the scar on his lip and pull his lips into her.  _ Stop this. It is not the time!  _ Emma had been in a relationship with a recovering addict before and it wasn’t a road she wanted to go down again. It was too fresh, he needed more time to find himself before she…  _ What Emma? Before you what?  _

 

She poked him playfully in the shoulder. “Stop calling me Lady Emma. I’m not even a noble, you know. I’m just Emma.”

 

He smiled a bit sheepishly. “I think I can do that… Emma.” He paused. “Will you call me Cullen then?”

 

“I can handle that,” she grinned wickedly. “With one exception- I get to call you Rutherford when we’re training.”

 

His laugh was loud and filled with mirth. A couple of people stopped and looked over, wondering what had their Commander in such a good mood.

 

They practised for another hour before duties called him away and Emma skipped happily to a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally random question: I had been toying with the idea of doing some little Cullen-POV tie-in bits since I usually headcanon what he's thinking anyways. I have enjoyed other works that have included those. Any interest in that? Am I just weird?


	15. Fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, now I've got over 50 kudos! Thanks everyone for their comments and love. It is so fun to hear what you're thinking and be more engaged with this process! Y'all rock!
> 
> I've honestly picked up writing creatively for the first time in years, doing this to get in the habit because it is so darn fun before I slowly reintroduce myself to writing things I will need to take more seriously. This has been/continues to be just so very lovely.

_ She was in the command tent, alone. A rustle sounded behind her and Cullen entered, stooping low under the tent flap. “You’re here,” he murmured. _

 

_ “I’m here.” _

 

_ He was in front of her in two strides. “Emma,” he growled as he put a hand on either side of her face and crashed his mouth into hers. Her lips parted in a gasp and he pressed into her mouth, tasting her, before pulling away. “I want you.” _

 

_ “I want you too,” she whispered. He reached down to lift her up against him and she wrapped her legs around his hips, gripping his shoulders. She could feel his length growing hard where it was pressed between her legs. He carried her to his desk and deposited her on top of the mess of reports. Cullen’s hand reached into her hair, pulling her head back so he could suck and nip at her throat. “Cullen,” she moaned, reaching down to feel his hardness. He gripped her wrist and pressed her harder against him, slowly thrusting against her open palm. _

 

_ “Let me take you.” His voice was deep with wanting. _

 

_ “Yes, of course, anything.” _

 

_ “Good, just wake up.” _

 

_ “What?” _

 

_ “Wake up, Emma.” _

 

\--

 

“Hunh?” Emma blinked her eyes open. John was leaning over her.

 

“You were dreaming.”

 

“I…” She took a moment to pull herself fully awake. “I know. Did you think I was having a nightmare?”

 

“You were sighing and saying his name.”

 

“What?”

 

John narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought I had to be watching out for the Herald, the way he paws at you and calls you pet names but it turns out it’s been you and the uptight commander this whole time? Goddammit Emma. I told you how I felt. You’re supposed to be mine!”

 

“And I told you I needed some space to think about things.”

 

“Think about which one of us is a better fuck, you mean?” His eyes flared, and she saw something strange she had never seen in them before.

 

“What is wrong with you, John?”

 

“I just want you to tell me the truth!”

 

“The truth is that it was a fucking dream, that’s it! I haven’t been with anyone but you since we got here, okay? I haven’t even been with anyone but you since we broke up.”

 

John slumped against the wall, eyes down.

 

“But that doesn’t mean it’s your business if I have. You have no right to treat me like your property or say those kinds of things to me. We are not together and if I choose to be with someone else, you just have to let me go.”

 

“I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t have behaved that way.” 

 

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have. Don’t do it again.”

 

John nodded. “It’s morning. I’ll just head to the kitchens and give you some space.”

 

Emma curled back under the covers, needing some time to think. John had never been jealous or possessive before.  _ What is going on with him? Is it the stress of this place? The mage training? Has he been sleeping?  _ She realised she hadn’t been keeping up with him as well as she could have and ultimately resolved to be a better friend, even if that was all she could offer for now.

 

\--

 

“Today, Rutherford, I am going to get behind that shield of yours.” Emma called to him playfully, determined to have fun that afternoon.

 

“Actually, today I will be trying to hit you.”

 

“What?” Her voice embarrassed her by coming out in a squeak. 

 

“Don’t worry,  _ Bennett, _ I promise to take it slow,” he teased. 

 

_ He slowly thrust against her- stop it, Emma! _

 

“What do I do?”

 

“I’m going to move slow and I want you to determine if you should try and dodge my attack or block it with your daggers. You’ll want to consider both where you will end up, and what the most efficient use of your energy will be.” He wedged his boot under a practice sword laying on the ground and kicked it up into his waiting hand. “Ready?”

 

He was true to his word, genuinely moving slow and telegraphing his moves well in advance. Emma found she had good instincts, he only had to correct her choice of response a few times. “Ready to speed things up a bit?” Emma nodded. He only moved about twenty-five percent faster but it all fell to pieces quickly. Her brain just wasn’t processing what she needed to do fast enough.

 

“Any chance we can go back to the thing where I try to hit you?”

 

“Not a chance.” He swung at her from overhead and she crossed her daggers to block. “Good positioning but this sword would be swinging with a lot more force. It would be better to side-step it, see if it gets wedged in the dirt, rather than take all that force on your forearms.”

 

Emma huffed and wiped some sweat off her face with her arm. “I knew that too. I did it last time. I think I just panic seeing it come at me sometimes.”

 

Cullen gave her a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately, it is something you will get used to.” He swung his sword towards her left side, she ducked underneath the blade and snaked her hand out to tap him with her dagger. She felt super clever as she was doing it, but she was a bit too low and she lost her balance and fell in the dirt.

 

“Shit.”

 

He chuckled as he reached down to offer a hand. “You have good instincts, Emma. Maybe just try not to fall over next time okay?” Emma had reached up to accept his offered hand but his teasing comment was too much and she quickly pulled him while he was already off balance. Cullen’s feet slipped out from under him and he fell straight forward, barely managing to catch himself on his forearms before crushing Emma underneath him. He blurted out a startled grunt. “What are you thinking? I am wearing twice your weight in armor. I could have seriously hurt you.”

 

Emma giggled. She hadn’t been thinking, obviously. She’d been taking her vengeance. “You would never hurt me, Commander.”

 

“Cullen,” he corrected.

 

“Cullen.”

 

“You’re right. I never would.” Cullen looked at her intently, taking her in. Emma was suddenly incredibly aware that Cullen was lying on top of her, his face inches away. Her breath hitched slightly, and she hoped desperately that he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was beating. She realised she was biting her bottom lip when Cullen’s eyes darted to her mouth. He shifted his weight slightly and Emma thought he was about to get up but he reached with a newly freed hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. His eyes were soft and his lips curled slightly at one corner. “This piece never wants to behave,” he murmured softly.

 

Before Emma could think of a response, a fireball crashed a foot away from their heads. Cullen immediately wrapped himself into her, protecting her. His arms were cradling her head, his forehead leaning on hers.

 

“Get off of her!” Cullen and Emma pulled apart slightly to look and saw John, readying another fireball. Lysette appeared and, Emma wasn’t sure what she did, the fireball disappeared. A look of fury and pain appeared on John’s face as he tried to bring it back. Lysette grabbed John by the arms as Cullen pulled himself up.

 

“John?” Emma awkwardly pushed off the ground. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

John’s face immediately changed. “I- I’m sorry. I thought he was hurting you. I-” His eyebrows were furrowed together in confusion and distress. “I don’t know why.”

 

“You can let him go.” Lysette hesitated but followed Cullen’s order.

 

“Ser, I would speak with you in private.”

 

Cullen nodded. “Emma, we will continue tomorrow.” With a gesture, he and Lysette disappeared into his tent. 

 

John reached a hand out. “Emma please.”

 

“Just don’t, John. You could have hurt someone. I can’t even look at you right now.” Emma directed herself towards the tavern. She needed a drink.


	16. Abomination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Rape Attempt. Needed it for the plot but kept it brief and not super detailed.

It was the first evening Emma had returned to their shared hut first.  _ Good. I hope he stays out all night.  _ She grumped around, getting ready for bed. She was about to brush her teeth, they had been using the electric toothbrush as a manual instrument, when she decided what she really needed was one of the joints still sitting in her purse.

 

She quickly found herself sitting alone outside and taking a long drag. She felt the tension run out of her.  _ Must be psychosomatic,  _ she mused.

 

“Em?” He approached hesitantly.

 

She silently offered John a toke and he took one, sitting down next to her.

 

“I am so-”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

They shared the silence for a few moments, taking drags. John leaned over and rested his head on Emma’s shoulder. “I’m a fucking mess, Em.” She nodded. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. My emotions are all over the map, sometimes I feel like I’m waking up in the middle of doing things without even really understanding how I got there. Like… like I was watching myself and then I was myself again. I don’t know. I know that doesn’t make it better but I want you to know that I know how messed up I’ve been.”

 

“How long?”

 

“Few days, I guess. I should have told you earlier.”

 

“I should have asked. I’ve been a bad friend.”

 

“We’ll both do better?”

 

“Deal.”

 

\--

 

Emma had only been asleep for a couple hours when she was jostled awake. John was crawling into her bedroll. “John, what the hell?” she groaned sleepily.

 

“I had a shit dream. Couldn’t sleep.” Emma grunted and held out her arm for him to crawl in. “Help me get back to sleep like you used to when I had insomnia,” he said as he crawled on top of her instead.

 

“John, we talked about this.”

 

John dipped his head down to her ear and traced its edge with his tongue. “Come on, Em. You want this too.”

 

“No, I don’t.” Emma tried to shove him off but he had already trapped one arm and she couldn’t get enough power with the other. “John, stop it. Get off.”

 

Instead he reached down and started to rub her clitoris through her clothes. Emma tried to wriggle out but he had her well pinned. “Stop fighting this Em. We’re meant to be together.”

 

“Get the fuck off!” She yelled right in his face but instead of skittering away, his face  _ changed  _ somehow. It was filled with the same fury she had seen that afternoon but this close, there was something wrong with it.

 

The door flew open. Lysette and another templar grabbed John. He shrieked an inhuman noise and thrashed against them. Emma couldn’t do anything but stare in terror. Lysette mouthed some words and the noise stopped but the face stayed twisted, mouth wide open. The man hauled him outside and Lysette stepped in and crouched in front of Emma.

 

“Lady Emma, I am so sorry.” Emma said nothing, just stared at her with wide eyes. “We had hoped you would remain safe long enough that we could address this in the morning.” Lysette paused, waiting to see if there was a response. When none came, she continued. “I’m afraid John has been possessed.”

 

“No.”

 

“I- I started to suspect yesterday. I should have said something then. I didn’t want to believe it but when he used that fireball today, I saw the demon inside him. He’s become an abomination.”

 

“No.” Emma was shaking her head. “No.”

 

“I am so sorry, my lady. I wish I could have helped him more.”

 

“No!” Emma bolted upright and made to run outside after him. Lysette caught her easily. “No, no, no!” Tears were streaming down her face. She crumpled over Lysette’s arm and the woman held her up with ease. She whimpered. “No…”

 

Lysette awkwardly rubbed her back. “What can I do for you, my lady?”

 

“Bring him back.” Emma choked out the words. 

 

“I’m afraid I cannot. Even if someone were to enter the fade and defeat the demon, John would not be the same. He cannot come back.”

 

“Solas! Solas can save him.” She moved to leave again, grasping at a plan to contact Solas and bring him back.

 

“No, my lady. Every moment we wait, John is losing more of himself. It is torture. We only waited to try and spare you this experience. We thought if we took him in the morning from the kitchens…” Lysette’s voice trailed off.

 

“No. No, no. We can bring him back. Solas can bring him back.”

 

“His soul is already broken. He’s already gone.” Emma wailed in response, her sobs echoing throughout the village. “Come, my lady. Let’s get you somewhere else.” With that Lysette pulled Emma to her feet and supported her to the Chantry.

 

\--

 

Emma crouched in front of a statue of Andraste. Lysette had left her alone, promising to be back. Instead, Josephine kneeled down beside her, still wearing her robe nightgown. She reached out and stroked Emma’s hair. “Lady Emma, Lysette told me what happened. I’m having a bath drawn up for you, and some food brought. I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”

 

Emma hung her head, tears spilling on the floor in front of her, but she allowed herself to be led. She felt like she was unable to take any actions or initiative on her own. She let Josephine undress her and put her in the bath. Josephine washed and combed Emma’s hair herself and hummed a something like a lullaby. She then wrapped Emma in a robe and, after failing to convince her to eat, put her to bed.

 

\--

 

Emma woke to the sound of hushed whispers. When she opened her eyes, all three advisors were huddled in the corner and discussing something indiscernible. She didn’t have that experience where recollection comes rushing back. She had remembered even in her sleep. She choked back a sob and they all turned to look at her.

 

Cullen was immediately beside her, kneeling at the side of the bed. He put his large hand over hers, curled his fingers around hers, and rested his forehead on the mattress. 

“Emma, I should have been there.”

 

“Now is not the time, Cullen.” Leliana softly chastised. “How can we help?” 

 

Josephine sat at the foot of the bed and began stroking her leg through the covers. Leliana hovered just behind with a sympathetic expression.

 

Emma shook her head. Her brain still didn’t feel like it was working properly. “He was all I had from home…” She whispered the words. It felt wrong to say them any louder. “He’s… he’s gone?”

 

Leliana nodded.

 

“I don’t know what to do. What do I do without him?” She looked at Leliana, like she would have some sort of answer for her. 

 

“We are all here for you,” Josephine said softly.

 

“It will fade with time,” Leliana said. “I am afraid that is all I can reassure you with.”

 

Emma sniffled. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you have all experienced your own losses and didn’t… fall apart like this.”

 

“We understand, Emma. He was more than a friend. He was your tether to home.”

 

Cullen said nothing, but squeezed her hand. 

 

“I think I’d like to be alone for awhile. Maybe go for a walk.”

 

Leliana shook her head. “I’m afraid that is the one thing we can’t allow. You are still too vulnerable. I will have to send someone to protect you. They can, however, keep their distance a bit.”

 

Emma pressed her lips together, considering. “I’m not sure having someone hovering and watching me will really help. Thank you, though.”

 

“Or I could accompany you.” Cullen was looking at her now. 

 

“I- I think I’d like that better, thank you.”


	17. Grieving

 

 

 

They walked in silence for a long while. Emma realised at some point that it was the first time she had left the perimeter of the structures that composed Haven. She had been outside the wall, but never outside the rings of buildings and tents that were growing up around it. 

 

They were slowly walking around the nearby lake together. At a particularly pretty lookout, Emma stopped and leaned against a tree. Cullen stood next to her, quiet, hand on the pommel of his sword. 

 

“Can you tell me what happened? How... why… I don’t even know what I’m asking.”

 

“Lysette believes it was a desire demon. They are… difficult to resist, and he was new to magic. She thinks it may have started just after your attack.” Cullen paused, waiting for a signal to continue. “Once it had him, it seemed to be biding its time, growing stronger. It was feeding off of his lust for you.”

 

“Not lust. Love. He was my best friend. We were together for years. He… he wanted to be a couple again.” 

 

“You loved him.”

 

“Yes. We weren’t good together… we made much better friends, but I never stopped loving him.” Emma swallowed her sobs and resumed staring at the lake. Cullen waited patiently.

 

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Emma murmured.

 

“Sad?”

 

“Weak.”

 

“You’re not weak, Emma.”

 

She looked down, a tear sliding it’s way to her jaw. “I am. I am so tired of not having any say, any control, over what happens to me or… my friends. I mean, for crying out loud, I’ve literally had others rescue me from being attacked twice since I got here and I haven’t even left Haven.”

 

“There are different kinds of strength.”

 

“But what good are they, Cullen? I don’t have a single skill or trait that will help me to succeed or even survive here! I’m completely useless!” More tears were welling in her eyes and when she blinked, they spilled in unison onto her boots.

 

Cullen took a step towards her and curled a gloved finger under her chin, lifting her face to look into his. “You are not useless. You are not weak.” He emphasized his words fervently. “You are... miraculous.”

 

“I’m not a miracle just because I tell you the future,” she sighed. 

 

“No, you’re not. You are a miracle because you are you.” His eyes shifted away suddenly, like he was surprised or embarrassed by his own words. Emma said nothing. Instead, she reached her arms around his neck and stood up on her toes to brush her lips softly against his. 

 

Cullen didn’t hesitate but responded instantly, wrapping his arms around her and returning her kiss. It was gentle. He held her like she might break. But when she whispered his name into his mouth, he pulled away. “I’m sorry. You are upset. I shouldn’t have.”

 

She stared into his chest plate, avoiding his eyes, cheeks still streaked with wet. “Thank you anyways. It helped, a little.” He reached a hand to her cheek, tried to smooth the tears away. “Maybe you could just hold me for a little while?”

 

Cullen moved behind her, and she leaned against him. She felt him shift and noticed he pulled off his gauntlets and vambraces before wrapping his arms around her. They both looked out towards the lake in silence. His armor was hard and cold against her back, but the arms encircling her were warm and strong, and that was enough for now.

 

\--

 

When Emma returned to the hut that evening, she found nothing had been touched. She crawled into John’s bedroll and curled into herself. It smelled like him. Not like the food he cooked, but like his sweat, his hair, the soap he had been using here. She didn’t dream that night, but she slept in fits and spurts all the same.

 

\--

 

The next three days were spent training. Lysette had arrived on her doorstep, announcing that she was at Emma’s disposal. “The Commander thought you might want more time for training than he could provide.” She smiled tentatively and Emma thought he might just be trying to distract both of them by throwing them together. As the days passed and she didn’t see him at all, she began to think he might be avoiding her.

 

The women worked their energy out on each other. Emma trained for nearly ten hours each day, only breaking for a midday meal. There was no more testing the waters, learning the moves. When Lysette tried to go easy on her, Emma shouted until she got her way. She didn’t want to feel John’s absence, so she felt the bruises instead. When someone snuck in and replaced John’s bedroll with a small chest of drawers, she turned her fury into hard blows. At night she dropped into unconsciousness, still avoiding her dreams.

 

There would be no more softness, she told herself, no more weakness. She wasn’t going to let this world beat her down. She would take the fight to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! So I posted the first chapter of Cullen's POV and called it Cullen's Prophet because a) I am not clever and b) She's totally his. First chapter can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993659/chapters/32222148


	18. Returned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dearest readers! Just a heads up that I'm starting to catch up to what I have written. This means I will be slowing down on the posting so it doesn't just run completely dry all at once in a week or so. For those who have been used to me posting 5-6x a week, it's going to look more like 3x. Either 3 chapters of Herald's or 2 of Herald's and one of Commander's. Hopefully that's a pace I can maintain!

The Herald returned quietly. He was half a day early and Emma was practicing throwing daggers at a target while Lysette had taken an hour to catch up on some other work. “You’re getting good at that,” he commented as he walked up behind her.

 

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” she shouted as she dropped the dagger she had been poised to send off.

 

“Should probably work on your poise though.” Maxwell raised an eyebrow in a patronizing tease as Emma spun around to glare at him.

 

“You’re back.”

 

“I am. I’ve had the most delightful and  _ exhausting  _ adventures, thanks to you, but I have finally returned to have my vengeance… at the tavern, of course.”

 

“I’m not sure I’m really in the mood…”

 

Maxwell ignored her, taking her hand and leading her away. “You’ll never guess what they’ve been calling you out there. The Herald’s Prophet!” He chuckled and squeezed her hand. “You’re almost as famous as I am.”

 

“Go figure. A rich man falls out of a hole in the sky and he gets to be a special symbol of the gods. A poor woman falls out… she’s his assistant.”

 

He snorted in response. “Not as bad as the other thing they’re calling you.”

 

“Lucky me.”

 

“The Witch Seer of Haven. Has a delightfully creepy ring to it, don’t you think?”

 

Emma hummed noncommittally. “Honestly, I can’t think about it right now. I’ve had a… bad few days.”

 

“I know, my darling.” Maxwell leaned his head towards her and rested his forehead against her own. “We received a raven. I am sorry. I have no skill for comforting.” He reached his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace. “That’s why I was trying to drag you to the tavern. I usually just drink my cares away.”

 

“Honestly, I like this much better.”

 

He squeezed her a little tighter and Emma felt a tear beginning to form. She blinked it away before it could finish. She wasn’t ready to start feeling again. “Okay, let’s go get that drink then.”

 

Maxwell pulled away and grinned at her like a delighted child before grabbing her hand again to drag her in the direction of the Singing Maiden.

 

\--

 

Cassandra and Varric were sitting at a table, quietly bickering. Maxwell plonked four tankards of ale down on the table in a manner that decisively finished their conversation and announced Emma’s presence. “See? I told you I’d get her to come!”

 

“It’s good to see you, Visions.” Varric reached across the table and patted her hand consolingly.

 

Cassandra appeared stiff and uncomfortable but offered her own words of condolence. “I am sorry for your loss, Lady Bennett.”

 

“How about we just drink and pretend everything is okay for a bit?”

 

“Here’s to that,” Varric reached his drink across the table and knocked it against hers before taking a swig. “Wait ‘til you meet our new warden friend you turned us onto. He’s a regular stalwart hero-type.”

 

Maxwell grinned. “A bit uptight, you mean?”

 

“I think his attitude is perfectly commendable.”

 

“Of course you do, Seeker. I think he has a story though, just have to figure out how to pry it out of him.” Varric shot a wink at Maxwell.

 

“You might have to stop telling stories about yourself to do that.” Blackwall approached and sat himself down decisively at their table.

 

“Maybe it’s a strategy I’m using to disarm you.” Varric waggled his eyebrows over the top of his tankard as he took another drink. “Anyways Visions, this is obviously the hero warden. Hero, this is Visions.”

 

Blackwall visibly frowned at the term ‘hero’ but let it slide, turning to Emma instead. “So you’re the prophet... Maxwell says he came looking because you ‘saw’ me, that you see the future. Just how much do you see?” He asked with a practiced air of mild curiosity but Emma could see the concern underneath it. She never would have noticed if she hadn’t been considering the implications of his secret since he was mentioned, however.

 

She decided to be kind, and laughed off the question. “I didn’t see you naked  or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Blackwall chuckled heartily and an atmosphere of mirth generally surrounded and warmed the table. 

 

\--

 

“Are you Lady Bennett?” The question came as Emma walked through Haven after leaving the warriors to continue drinking without her, concerned if she drank too much it would make all her feelings come back.

 

Emma paused, and turned towards the voice. A women in Chantry garb stood nearby, the clothing making her identity immediately apparent. “You may call me Emma, Mother Giselle.”

 

The woman inclined her head slightly. “I was asked to find you. The Commander thought that you might want to hold a service for a friend of yours, now that I am here to do so.”

 

_ Oh.  _ Emma hadn’t really thought about it as a possibility. People died in Thedas all the time, didn’t they? John obviously wasn’t part of their religion. At the same time, the idea had a ring of closure hovering about it. “I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.” She said hesitantly.

 

“Not at all,” Mother Giselle smiled. “We will have a small ceremony tomorrow morning, before the council meeting.”

 

Emma nodded. She was coming dangerously close to crying again and words would have sealed it. Instead she let the Chantry Mother head off to arrange things.

 

\--

 

The next morning, Emma found herself sitting with Maxwell on one side, his arm curled around her shoulders, and Varric on the other. Josephine and Cassandra had also come to offer support. She even saw Leliana in the corner, though the woman never approached her. Most surprising were about two dozen workers from the kitchens who crowded the front. Emma had never learned any of their names, she realized.  _ I was so caught up in my own stuff, I never really stepped into his world after we got here.  _ It made her smile to see that he had at least made friends and found a place to belong in the short time they had been here. 

 

Mother Giselle was walking to the front when Emma heard a familiar clank of armour and she turned around to see Cullen sitting down behind her. ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed at him and he offered her a sad smile.

 

“The light shall lead her safely,” Mother Giselle began as a signal to come up and light a candle. “Through the paths of this world, and into the next.” Emma rose too, leaning on Maxwell a little for support and comfort. After candles were lit, mourners were invited to say a few words. Varric looked at her questioningly and she shook her head. She couldn’t. She was just glad to hear the stories of his friends, whose stories mostly involved tavern antics and jokes about his strange ideas on spices. Afterwards, Mother Giselle said another prayer and it was done.

  
_ Just like that. I’m supposed to move on now.  _ Her thoughts were dismissive but she found she felt a little calmer inside. The ceremony had been a balm for her shredded heart, even if it was not one of her own culture’s making. Emma turned around to thank Cullen properly for suggesting the ritual, but he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and thoughts are always loved and appreciated. Happy Monday all!


	19. War Council

“Are you feeling okay to do this?”

 

“I’ll be fine.” What she really meant was that she had resolved to be fine. There was no more room for her weakness.

 

Maxwell took her arm and looped it through his, accompanying her to the war room. 

 

“Herald. Emma.” Josephine turned to each of them in turn. “Mother Giselle has informed us that she believes that entreating certain Chantry officials for support might be successful with the addition of a personal touch.”

 

“Yes,” Maxwell’s mouth twitched. “She seems to believe I can charm them.”

 

“Well, if anyone can.”

 

“What can you tell us, Emma?” Leliana sent an inquiring look her way.

 

Emma shook her head. “You will not gain the Chantry’s support, but this does not mean a trip to Val Royeaux would be without merit.” Leliana raised her eyebrow, an entreaty to continue. “Madame de Fer sees an opportunity in us, as well as a good cause.” 

 

“A loyalist mage, First Enchanter, and advisor to the Empress? That would be a supporter worth having,” Josephine mused.

 

“Is it enough to justify travelling all the way to Val Royeaux?” Maxwell lazily gestured across the map.

 

“Also a woman wants to meet you who seems to have connection to some sort of underground group? She’s part of a network. It’s unclear.” Emma put on her best confused and thoughtful face. She was pretty sure an honest and thorough explanation of Sera and the Red Jennys wouldn’t be the most compelling argument. 

 

“Well, now that sounds interesting.” Maxwell grinned mischievously. Emma breathed a silent sigh of relief. She didn’t know what would happen if Maxwell didn’t play the same game that she had.  _ Only it’s not a game anymore.  _ She had barely been brave enough to send him to track down Blackwall early.

 

“Good. It is settled. You can also approach the Templars currently stationed in Val Royeaux about their aid in closing the Breach. With any luck they’ll serve as good connections to the Order.” Cullen’s first words during the council startled Emma.  _ Oh yes, he wants to work with the Templars of course.  _ Emma peeked sideways at Maxwell to see his reaction. 

 

“Hm.” A grunt of begrudging assent.

 

“Will the Templars aid us if the Chantry does not?” Leliana mused.

 

“I- I can’t say,” Emma decided to hedge her bets. “But I have seen the Lord Seeker having some sort of argument with a Revered Mother. I- I’m not sure what it was about. I’m sorry.” She shook her head, looking like she was trying to shake loose new knowledge.  _ I am such a filthy liar.  _ “Maybe I will see more... another night.”  _ But damned if I’m going to tell you that a Revered Mother gets punched by a Templar, and on his orders. _

 

“Another order of business,” Josephine put in. “Lord Kildarn has written to you and offered payment in return for some assistance.” 

 

Maxwell raised an eyebrow in response to the displeased tone in her voice. “What sort of assistance, Josie?”

 

“Well, umm… it seems some refugees have settled on his lands and as there may be elves and apostates among them, he would prefer them gone.”

 

Cullen glowered. “Honestly. I have half a mind to send a contingent of soldiers armed with nothing more than food and blankets. If that man honestly thinks-” He was cut off by Maxwell’s bark of laughter.

 

“Let’s do it, Commander. Send your men, banners waving high, and make sure those refugees are good and comfortable!” Chuckling continued throughout his outline of the plan. Cullen grinned and nodded, jotting down some notes.

 

“Finally,” Josephine hesitated. “We have received word that some distant relatives of yours have been throwing around the Inquisition’s name and implicating us in various stances we may not wish to take. We could, perhaps, offer some future favours in exchange for their silence.”

 

“Absolutely not.” Maxwell had set his mouth in a grim line. “I will not engage in those types of politics with my own family. Let’s ensure that they understand the Inquisition has real power and will not be claimed as their own tool.”

 

“I could send rumors of assassins to indicate our displeasure and also the extent of our power,” Leliana tilted her head slightly. 

 

“Do it.” Maxwell shook his head in disbelief. “The stupidity of some people.”

 

“I believe that is all we have for now. I will arrange for your departure to Val Royeaux, perhaps the day after next.” Josephine gathered up her notes and everyone made to leave.

 

Cullen was hurrying out so Emma quickly stepped around the table to put a hand on his arm. “Commander, may I speak with you a moment?” A look of nervousness crossed his face but he stopped. As soon as everyone had left the room, she let out a breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding. “I wanted to thank you properly. You haven’t been an easy man to pin down lately.” She gave him a tentative half smile but the look on his face quickly wiped it away. His face had moved from uncertainty to discomfort.

 

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled. “I’ve been busy. I- I’m sorry.” With those words he pulled away from her and hurried from the room. Emma watched the door closing behind him with shock. 

 

She paced the room a couple of times, fretting. It was now certain he was avoiding her, and yet he had cared enough to arrange for the funeral that morning. How badly had she messed things up? Would she ever be able to get that friendship back? 

 

_ Shit. _

 

_ I never should have kissed him. _

 

\--

 

By the time the meeting had ended it was lunchtime, so Emma marched to the tavern and picked up a couple of meals and ales. She balanced them awkwardly all the way across Haven to the command tent. The tent flaps were open to let in the daylight and she went straight to the desk and plunked the meals down on top of all the papers spread across it.

 

Cullen looked up in surprise. “Lady Emma! I- I really have to-”

 

“You have to sit down and eat. Don’t try telling me that you already have. I know you haven’t. And while you’re eating, you’re going to let me talk.”

 

He looked like a wanted to argue but after a heavy pause, he sat down and tore off a piece of bread.

 

“Good.” Emma sat down on the other side of the desk and took a gulp of ale.  _ For courage.  _ “First, I’m sorry I kissed you. I really didn’t mean to mess things up between us… to mess up our friendship. And I know I did. I know you’ve been avoiding me ever since. The thing is, I know I’ve only been here a few weeks but I- I really care about you and I don’t know what I’d do if I can’t fix it…” She trailed off as she realised her eyes were welling with tears.  _ Stop it, Emma!  _

 

Cullen rushed around the desk and crouched in front of her chair. He tentatively took her hand in his, rubbing aimless circles with his thumb. “Emma, you’re so wrong,” he said softly as he peered into her face. “I haven’t been avoiding you because you kissed me. I’ve been avoiding you because I kissed you.”

 

“No. I kissed you.”

 

Cullen shook his head. “You were distressed and mourning someone you loved. I was being selfish and I took advantage of your vulnerability. I cannot apologise enough. I have been a terrible friend.”

 

She didn’t know why, but Emma began crying in earnest then. Sobs she couldn’t stop wracked her body.  _ I thought I was over this part.  _

 

“Please don’t cry.” Cullen reached up and brushed tears from her face. “The only thing worse than seeing you cry is knowing that it’s my fault.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s not your fault.”

 

“Emma…” He looked at her with warm eyes full of concern.

 

“Please don’t avoid me anymore. I want you around. You help.”

 

The side of his mouth twitched upwards, but his eyes stayed fixed on her with concern. “Okay. I won’t. I promise to be here.” He paused. “And I will be a better friend to you. You… you have become important to me and I don’t want to ruin that either.”

 

Emma nodded, satisfied that they could repaired their friendship. Part of her though, realised she was disappointed that there wasn’t more.


	20. Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said I was only going to update three times a week, but this chapter is ready. Also the last one wasn't my favourite chapter but it had to be considered 'done' at some point.

“So did you finish it?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“My book! Did you finish Tale of the Champion?”

 

“It was great! You are such a hero.”  

 

Varric shifted uncomfortably. “Ehh,  I’m not the hero in that story. It was definitely all Hawke.”

 

“Well, you’re still a hero to me.” Emma put on her most winning grin. “Besides, you’re here now, still being heroic. I think that says a lot.”

 

“Aww thanks, Visions.” Varric blushed into his empty tankard, lifting it to his mouth out of reflex.

 

“Not as heroic as me though, right?” Maxwell arrived and slid the fresh rounds across the table.

 

“Ohhh sure. No one’s as heroic as you are.” Emma flashed a conspiratorial wink at Varric who spilled some of his beer laughing. 

 

They were getting right and proper sloshed. Knowing he had to leave the day after next, Maxwell had announced a farewell party. It turned out Maxwell’s idea of a farewell party was to drink yourself stupid with your favourite people. Emma had no complaints about the distraction. Thinking too hard was getting her into trouble.

 

“I have spent enough time at poncy balls and teas for one life,” he was waving his mug around as he gestured. “Here’s to better company and better beer!”

 

“This beer is quite shit actually,” Varric laughed.

 

“Shh! Flissa will hear you,” Emma was leaning in but still speaking loudly.

 

“Oh, she knows.”

 

“Cassandra!” Maxwell had stood up as the woman entered the tavern. “Cassandra, come sit over here.” She wrinkled her nose but came over to join them. “Cassandra, you are wonderful.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “You saved my ass so many times.”

 

“You are drunk.” She turned to Emma. “Why did you allow this? I expect it from him,” she gestured to Varric, “but you?”

 

Emma felt her cheeks growing red. “I might be too drunk myself to stop him. Also,” she went on the defensive and put on a bit of a drunken pout. “I’m gonna miss your faces when you leave. Why not celebrate while you’re home?”

 

Cassandra grunted her skepticism but stayed and relaxed with them anyways. 

 

\--

 

Emma woke up sweaty and hot, face down in a pillow. Her head was pounding in a familiar fashion. “Ugh.”  _ I’m so hungover.  _ She tried to push herself up and found that she was weighed down. “What?” She groggily twisted herself to look around. Her aching head took a few moments to make sense of her surroundings. Bright sunlight streamed in through a window, it was late in the day.  _ I’m in Maxwell’s hut? _

 

A masculine grunt sounded beside her. Emma froze, realizing the weight on top of her was Maxwell laying on her. He twisted, rolling off her but pulling her with him with the arm he had extended around her. He nuzzled his face into the back of her neck. “Mm. You smell good.” He wiggled into her and she could feel the pressure of his cock, hard against her ass.

 

She was afraid to ask the question.  _ Why am I here? Did we sleep together? _ Was her reaction to John’s death simply falling into bed with the next person who would have her? She had  _ kissed  _ Cullen, why not fuck Maxwell? Instead of asking, she went with pointing out his erection pressing into her.

 

“It won’t attack you, you know.” He was sleepily grumbling at her. 

 

“Umm… Maxwell?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I can’t remember last night. Did we… ?” She let the question hang in the air, unspoken.

 

Maxwell snorted. “Even drunk, I don’t take advantage of women who pass out the minute they hit the bed.”

 

“I didn’t mean- I don’t- I can’t remember why I’m here.”

 

“You were too drunk to find your own bed so I brought you here. Now shh… I have a headache.”

 

Satisfied, Emma closed her eyes, happy to cut off the sunlight worsening her own headache. Unfortunately, a knocking at the door ended any relief she was experiencing.

 

Maxwell let out a loud groan. “Ughh. Come in.”

 

“Herald, ser. You have been summoned to the war room. The prophet is missing.” The messenger was reading off of a missive and when she was finished she looked up and blinked in surprise.

 

“I think you can let the council know that the prophet is with me, hmm?” He had a single eyebrow raised in a mix of amusement and irritation. 

 

“Yes ser.” The messenger practically scurried out the door.

 

Emma sighed. “You know everyone is going to think we slept together, right?”

 

“We did sleep together.”

 

She reached over and pinched his arm. “You know what I mean!”

 

“Emma, I have spent my whole life trying to manage people’s impressions in order to keep my family happy. It’s never enough. I’m tired of it. Let them think what they want.”

 

Emma nibbled on her bottom lip, unable to brush away concern. “But you don’t want to though. You don’t, like, have feelings for me or anything, right?”

 

“I feel that you are the sweetest, most wonderful woman.” He kissed her on the shoulder. “And I wouldn’t want to do this whole world-saving thing without you… You’re still all stiff. What’s going on?”

 

“I just- I need to know that you don’t want to be with me.”

 

“What’s this about, Emma?”

 

“Please, just tell me.”

 

Maxwell sighed and rolled onto his back. “You, despite being a gorgeous and lovely creature, are decidedly not my type. Good?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Now tell me what’s going on in that anxious head of yours.”

 

“Just… the romantic love thing didn’t exactly go well for…”

 

Maxwell quickly pulled her back into a hug. “John was a mage, and one who never learned how to deal with demons. It could have happened for any number of reasons, Emma. It’s not loving you that did it.”

 

Emma stayed silent.  _ I’m not so sure.  _

 

\--

 

If Emma was being honest, she was hiding. She had a bath drawn for her in Maxwell’s cabin and she nursed her headache with liquids. He was out attending to Herald business, such as it was, and she had the room to herself. Eventually though, she got hungry and decided to brave the outside world. 

 

She found herself drifting towards the training grounds as she munched on plain bread - the only thing she was relatively certain she wouldn’t throw back up. She spotted Cassandra watching from nearby as Cullen drilled the troops through formations. Reluctantly, she sidled up, prepared for merciless teasing. Instead all that was said was “How are you feeling?”

 

“Pretty rubbish in all honesty.”

 

Cassandra nodded and Emma thought the edge of her mouth might have briefly flicked upwards in a smile. They stood watching in companionable silence. Cassandra had a thoughtful look on her face. “Does his flirting with other women bother you?” she asked.

 

Emma looked at her in confusion. “Who? Cullen?”

 

Cassandra barked a laugh. “Does that man ever flirt?” Emma hid a small smile, remembered how he was with her Inquisitor.  _ Yes.  _ “The Herald. He is very flirtatious and… indiscriminate in his attentions.”

 

“Why would that bother me?”

 

“I suppose I would want to know that my lover thought of me as special.” Cassandra was staring outwards, considering.

 

“He is  _ not  _ my lover!” She was emphatic.

 

“Oh.” Cassandra furrowed her brows in confusion. “I apologise for presuming. Simply, he is very physically affectionate with you and after you were found in his room this morning…”

 

Emma sighed. “We were just sleeping. I was too drunk to find my way back from the tavern. How many people know?”

 

“Well, only a select few were informed but we had a number of scouts looking for you this morning after you were not in your own cabin and…” she pursed her lips, “gossip has a way of spreading.”

 

Nodding, Emma returned to watching Cullen work. He was ordering soldiers around with what seemed to be a little less patience than usual.

 

“I believe he may be sweet on you,” Cassandra commented.

 

_ Cullen? Then why did he push me away and resolve to be friends?  _ Hedging her bets, she raised her eyebrows in an implied question.

 

She sighed. “Maxwell, of course.”

 

“Oh! No, he’s not.” Cassandra made a noise to indicate her disbelief. “He’s not!” Emma protested. “He just wants to be good friends, which works just fine for me.”

 

“In case you are incorrect, if I may offer a word of caution?”

 

“Of course.”  _ But I’m not. _

 

“Even after we close the Breach, it is likely he will be needed to continue closing rifts around Thedas. It will be a long and dangerous task, and one he might not survive. He has a higher purpose that he needs to fulfill. It can be difficult to be in a relationship under those conditions.”

 

Emma began giggling uncontrollably while Cassandra watched her in surprise. “I’m- I’m sorry Cassandra. I just- It’s funny thinking that you’re telling me to think about the future, given that I’m here to tell you about it.”

 

She smiled wryly. “Yes. But we can all be blinded by love.”

 

“Trust me. I am decidedly not in love with the Herald.”

 

Cassandra hummed thoughtfully. Emma thought the look on her face might almost be wistful, and she remembered the woman’s soft spot for romance. When Cullen’s loudly barked irritation broke through her thoughts, she looked to see Cassandra frown and purse her lips. The Seeker watched him bluster about for a few more minutes before making a disgusted noise and stalking off, no doubt to chastise him for his grumpiness today. “If ever a man  _ needed _ a good woman to love him,” she dropped as her parting words. Emma felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach, wondering if the Cassandra guessed her growing crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please comment. Let me know what you think, what you like, what you WOULD like. It's all good and fun :)


	21. Return to Form

“Cullen?”

 

He looked up from his desk, wearily. “How can I help you, Emma?”

 

She nearly recoiled. She thought they had fixed things, and yet, he had never seemed so beleaguered by her very presence. “It’s… never mind.” She made to leave.

 

“Wait. I apologize. I... am not myself.”

 

“I was hoping that maybe we could do some training today? Lysette has more or less returned to her regular duties.”

 

“I would like that.” Then he paused. “Perhaps while the Herald is in Haven you should train with him.” She couldn’t quite read his tone. She hadn’t heard it before.

 

She pressed on, wrinkling her nose slightly. “Maxwell is an archer. What is he going to teach me?”

 

“You should learn better skills for getting away from an attack than I can teach you. It’s… I think it’s a better idea for you to go to him.”

 

“I don’t want Maxwell. I want you.” She blushed as she heard the words come from her mouth and realized how it could be taken. “I mean, to train with you.”  _ Also, what I originally said.  _

 

Cullen sighed and nodded. “In an hour.”

 

She still couldn’t tell what was wrong.

 

\--

 

“Ready Bennett?” Cullen called as he tossed a couple of practice daggers at her. “Let’s see what Lysette’s been teaching you.”

 

“Alright, but don’t expect me to go easy on you Rutherford!” She called back at him.

 

“I can see she’s taught you how to feign confide-” He was cut off as Emma flew at him. He managed to quickly get his shield up but she rolled off it and around his shield arm and tapped him in the shoulder with her dagger. He laughed and moved into a ready position. “You’ve improved.”

 

“I certainly hope so,” she shot back. It felt like the mood from earlier had been lifted. It felt like before John. It felt good. Emma smiled. They circled each other and she feinted to the left and dodged right but he saw it coming. The sun peeked out from behind a cloud and she stopped her circling, holding herself between him and it, forcing Cullen to squint.

 

“You’re getting tricky,” he commented as he tried to change their positions.

 

“I like to think of it as getting smart.” She backed up in order to maintain the perspective.

 

He advanced forward, following her. “You forgot something.”

 

“What’s tha-” Her back bumped up against a fence. “Shit.”

 

Cullen raised his sword arm and when he did, she dropped and rolled underneath it, landing tidily back on her feet. She grinned at him triumphantly but he’d already shifted and he put the back of his sword against her neck and moved in. “You still have a few things to learn.” He was close enough she could feel his breath as he looked down at her.

 

Emma panted, holding her chin high. “Then I guess you’d better teach me, Commander,” she breathed. Cullen’s eyes flashed and he smirked at her. There was a thickness in the air as they stared at each other. Emma found herself wanting to trace the scar on his lip with her tongue. She could tell him how hot she was for teacher. His face changed then, a slight scowl. He stepped away and they began again.

 

She managed to get two more hits on him and it felt triumphant. He was still significantly better than her, of course, but she would take what she could get. Exhausted after a complete afternoon of sparring, Emma lay herself out flat on the grass after downing a full waterskin.

 

“Is there a reason you are laying on the ground?” Cullen looked down at her, amused.

 

“I’m tired?”

 

“Surely a bath, some food, or lying on your own bed would attend to that better.”

 

“Not a chance,” she laughed. “There’s nothing like splaying yourself out in sun-warmed grass and just… feeling. Seriously, come down here and try it.”

 

Cullen hesitated, looking at her like she had lost her mind but he slowly lowered himself and lay down beside her. “What am I supposed to be feeling?”

 

She hummed as she considered. “Your own body, the glow of the sun, the pulse of the earth, the touch of the breeze. Whatever you want to feel.”

 

Cullen closed his eyes, waited. “I don’t feel any of that.”

 

“Well, it probably doesn’t help that you have all your armor on, silly.”

 

He frowned. “I do not normally wear casual clothes while I am in public. I have to maintain the image of a Commander.”

 

Emma sat up and leaned over him. “You’re laying on the ground with me. I dare say that image has passed,” she smirked. “Besides, it can be good for people to see their boss as human every once in a while.” She flopped back down.

 

Cullen grunted, considering. Eventually he sat up and began stripping off the extra layers. Emma watched his silhouette from her position on the ground. His mantle, his cloak, his vambraces, his breastplate, they came off one after the other until he was wearing only a simple white tunic that served as an undershirt. He lay back down next to her. “I’m proud of you,” she teased. “Now just focus on the moment. How does your body feel? How does the ground feel under your back? The dirt under your fingers? The sun on your face?”

 

Cullen was silent for awhile. She could hear the sound of his breathing. “Maker...” he exhaled.

 

“That good, huh?”

 

“It’s been a while since I’ve truly relaxed,” he admitted.

 

“Don’t burn yourself out, Cullen. The Inquisition needs you, but it needs you strong. You have to take care of yourself.”

 

There was silence as he considered her words.

 

“That cloud looks a bit like a mabari, don’t you think?”

 

Cullen jolted. “What?”

 

“That one there,” she pointed. “Don’t you think it looks like a mabari pup?”

 

“Are you saying you see figures in the clouds?”

 

“What, the Dalish can make all sorts of shapes out of constellations but it’s ridiculous for me to see one in a cloud?”

 

Cullen paused. “You know, looking at the map the other day… I thought Lake Calenhad looked a bit like a bunny.” Emma collapsed into a fit of giggles that she internally vowed never to explain to him. “We must tell Leliana.”

 

“Absolutely not.” But he chuckled as he said it.

 

Emma belligerently closed her eyes and allowed a smirk to grow across her face as he elbowed her in protest. “I think I will. And Maxwell too. He’ll love it.”

 

“Right.” Emma heard a hint of irritation in his voice and the laughter was gone.

 

“What on earth are you doing?” Cassandra’s voice rang through the sudden tension.

 

“Seeker!” Cullen sat up in his alarm.

 

“Watching the clouds. Feeling the earth.  _ Relaxing. _ ” Emma didn’t even bother to open her eyes.

 

“Well, I can’t say I entirely disapprove. It’s about time you did something other than work, Commander.”

 

“Glad to hear you say so, Cassandra.” Maxwell’s voice joined the conversation. He had evidently approached with her. “Let’s join them.”

 

“Absolutely not. Simply because I approve of the Commander taking some time to relax does not mean I intend to-” Emma opened one eye just in time to see Maxwell tackle her to the ground. “Herald!” Her shout was a mix between alarm and anger.

 

“Come on, Cassandra. Live a little with me.” She grunted and gave up her struggle, laying herself out next to Cullen. Maxwell rolled off her and lay down as well. “Nope,” he announced after a short moment. “I don’t get it.” He stood up and offered Cassandra a hand to help her up. “I think we’ll leave the  _ earth feeling  _ to the two of you.”

 

“When you have a moment, Commander. I do have something to discuss with you.”

 

“Right away.” Cullen started to scramble up but Cassandra put out a hand to halt him.

 

“Later. Believe it or not, this is actually more important.” Cullen opened his mouth to protest but her stern look shut it again.

 

As they left, Maxwell turned and called back to Emma. “You’ll see me off in the morning, right love?” Emma said nothing but thrust a thumb in the air. It probably didn’t hold the same meaning in Thedas but she couldn’t be bothered to shout back at him.

 

She felt Cullen drop back next to her with a huff. “Told you,” she laughed.

 

He didn’t laugh with her. She turned her head to look at him. He was stewing, relaxation nowhere on his body or face. The moment was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I have whiplash from the fluff/angst back and forth -- and I wrote it!


	22. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my one month AO3 anniversary! It's been a delight thanks to all your lovely comments and kudos and things! :) <3 you all, you lovely and wonderful people!

_ Emma was back in grad school. Standing at the front of the class, she tried to give a presentation but she kept stumbling over her words. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn’t get out the right words, tell them what she knew. Frantically she looked at her classmates, scanning for judgment. Varric was there, silently teasing her poor presentation. Cassandra sat passively. Her expression passed as both judgment and calm support. Solas was- wait- Solas was different. There was something strange about him. _

 

_ “God damn it, you asshole! Why are you back?” _

 

_ He shrugged. “You’ve been avoiding me.” _

 

_ “Perhaps that’s because I cannot trust you to stay out of my head.” As Solas began to walk from the class seating towards her, she realized no one else remained in the room. It was just the two of them in her old university. _

 

_ “Then we are at an impasse. You are avoiding me because I have entered your dreams. I am here because you have been avoiding me.” _

 

_ “Why do you even care?” Emma scuffed a foot against the floor nervously. _

 

_ “I find you curious. I want to know what you know… and how you know it. Tell me,” he looked around. “What part of the future is this telling you?” _

 

_ She couldn’t tell if he was curious or testing her or what. “This is just a normal dream. It’s just, manifesting my own psyche or whatever.” _

 

_ “Hm. Interesting. What is does it say about you, I wonder?” _

 

_ “None of your damn business.” _

 

_ He gave her a half smile. “You are right, of course. I will endeavour to give you back your privacy for now, but you are a puzzle - and one that I intend to solve, Emma.” With that, he disappeared. Emma had half expected him to snap his figures or create a puff of smoke but he was gone so quickly that she wasn’t even sure at what moment it had happened. She looked around at the empty room and- _

 

\--

 

It was still night.  _ Shit.  _ She was so wound up, she knew she wouldn’t be getting back to sleep. She stretched out and groaned in relief. Between sleeping on the floor for weeks and training her body in ways it had never moved, she was sore. She hadn’t even done yoga since she got to Thedas, though she had done some simple stretching after training with Lysette.  _ It might help actually.  _ She hesitated for a few moments, unwilling to give up on sleep, before rolling out of bed. She pulled on a pair of leggings and Cullen’s shirt and resolved to go find somewhere to stretch or do some yoga. Anything to get this cramped tension out of her neck and back. As she pulled her hair into a braid, she flicked a look at the dresser on the opposite wall and scurried out before she remembered to think about what it meant.

 

It was a clear night out and Emma stopped to look up at the stars. The glow from the Breach emanated through the sky enough to occlude many of them. It looked heavy and oppressive, it’s light making it harder to ignore at night.  _ If I fuck up, we might never close it. Things could get so much worse than John-  _ Suddenly she felt alone and she shivered.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the idea out of her mind.  _ Just focus on the now. _ She marched ahead, pointedly looking at the ground and picking a path for herself towards the lake. When she heard a crunching of boots behind her, she sped up her steps. “Wait,” a voice said behind her as a hand wrapped around her wrists. Emma twisted into it immediately and threw a fist towards her assailant, who caught it easily in his own hand. “Whoa, whoa. Emma, it’s me.” 

 

“Cullen? You scared me,” she whispered softly, not wanting to disturb the quiet of the night. Part of her wanted to reach out to him in her relief and bury herself in his arms. He was wearing a loose shirt, the same kind she was wearing, and breeches. No armour. She could feel his body heat.

 

“You shouldn’t be walking around alone at night.”

 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

 

Cullen gave her a sly smile. “You still shouldn’t be walking around alone at night.”

 

“I needed to move. I was going to go do some yo- stretching by the lake.”

 

“If that will help, then I will accompany you.”

 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother… Don’t you want to go back to sleep?”

 

Cullen shook his head. “You are not the only one who has difficulty sleeping.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma looked up into his eyes. Even with pupils dilated wide in the dim night, she could see the striking amber colour and warmth they held. She realized that he was still holding onto her wrist, gently.

 

“No. I would rather not, if you don’t mind.” 

 

“It’s nice to see you out of armour twice in a row.” She smiled and reached up with the hand he wasn’t holding. It was still loosely shaped in a fist. She flattened it against his chest. His breath hitched slightly and she could feel his heartbeat quicken. “There’s a real person under all that metal. Sometimes you seem so much larger than life.”

 

“Emma,” his voice was low and husky. It made her own heart skip. “Of course I am only a person.”

 

“Well,” she switched tones and withdrew her hand, not wanting to risk anything more. “You are very tall.”

 

His low chuckle sent tingles through her, all the way to her toes. “Perhaps you are simply very short.”

 

“Taller than Varric!” she called as she continued towards the lake.

 

\--

 

Cullen was leaning his back against a tree and watching as Emma moved through a yoga routine. She tried not to feel self-conscious and stay in the moment as she did so but she failed completely. She would flick her eyes at him and see him looking with mild interest, then confusion, then look impressed, and then vastly amused. 

 

“Can you stop watching me?” She was laying in child’s pose.

 

“It’s fascinating. I’ve never seen stretching like this before.”

 

“It’s called yoga. It’s not just stretching, really. There are a lot of health benefits.” She decided not to confuse things by getting into the religious or cultural aspects, or of controversies that meant nothing here. She pushed herself up into downward dog.

 

She heard him lose his balance and recover. “You were going to do  _ that  _ all alone at night where anyone could come upon you? By the Maker, Emma, I’m not sure if you are bravest or the most reckless creature I’ve ever met.”

 

“Are those things mutually exclusive?” She teased.

 

“I’m serious, Emma. I worry about you. Ever since…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Maker… do you even know how people see you?”

 

She huffed indignantly and flowed into upward dog. “Am I supposed to care?” 

 

“It makes you a target, Emma. It’s not just your future-sight. You’re a complete enigma. You look like you’ve lived the life of a noble but you act like a commoner, drinking shit ale and constantly covered in mud. And that’s when you aren’t being simply strange and doing things like dragging blankets around outside. People talk about you as much as they do the Herald. It certainly doesn’t help that you’re beautiful-”

 

Emma snorted. “I’m average looking at best.” She recalled easily being teased for her too pale skin, her too small breasts, unmanageable hair, eyes spaced just a bit too far apart and coloured in a boring steel grey.

 

“That’s not what many of my men think.”  _ What do you think?  _ She wanted to ask but she pressed her lips together and stayed quiet. “I just want you to be more cautious. Belonging to the Herald will only provide so much protection, especially when he is frequently away.”

 

Emma stopped then, folding herself into a sitting position and staring up at him with disapproval. “I don’t  _ belong  _ to the Herald. Just because they call me his Prophet, doesn’t make me his. I am an advisor, the same as you and just as much my own person.”

 

“I- forgive me.” Cullen looked mortified. Even in the dim night, she could see a creep of red spreading across his cheeks. “I was not referring to your professional position. Of course you are as respected as anyone. I was speaking of your… personal relationship.”

 

“I am not his personally either.”

 

Cullen nodded slowly. “Yes. You are right. I don’t intend to demean your independence. I know you are a free spirit. Maker, I do not know how to say this…” He turned his eyes towards the skies, avoiding her gaze. “I am trying to say that taking the Herald for your lover will give pause to many but some will find that to be an incentive and you need to be more careful.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was really obtuse enough that she had to spell it out or if he was simply that determined to have her be unapproachable in his mind. For a brief second, she wondered if it might be better for him to continue to believe it. She was too annoyed to consider it carefully, however. “Maxwell is not my lover. I would have thought you were above listening to such gossip, Commander.”

 

Cullen flinched at her use of his title. “Andraste’s- I apologise. I am an idiot.”

 

“Yes. You are.”

 

“Can you forgive me?” He peered at her with earnest eyes and she knew it was a mistake to look into them. She melted every time.

 

“I’ve said before that you make it difficult to stay angry with you, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, what a lovely 1 month gift to hit 100 kudos! I didn't think my first work would gain even this much traction. Thanks so much lovelies!


	23. Day

Cullen and Emma arrived back at Haven around dawn and parted ways. Emma headed towards the group preparing to leave for Val Royeaux. “You almost didn’t make it,” Maxwell teased as she approached.

 

“Perish the thought!” She raised her hand to her mouth in fake shock. It was desperately hard to be serious around him. She had arrived with a purpose, however. “You should know I had a vision of the leader of the rebel mages last night.” She had been parceling out her revelations, not wanting to appear to always have all information at the same time.

 

Despite addressing Maxwell, Emma saw a flicker of surprise pass over Solas’ face before it settled once again into mild interest.

 

“I cannot tell what she will be doing, but I believe she will be in Val Royeaux and will seek you out.” Emma turned to address Solas directly. “I am so sorry Solas. Evidently you popped into the wrong dream of mine. What a shame for you.” With that she turned on her heel and marched off to the pleasant sound of three friends berating him.

 

\--

 

Emma was exhausted, but she’d never been able to sleep in the afternoons so she resigned herself to an afternoon of clumsy sparring and hopeless bruising. Cullen wasn’t outside waiting for her, however, as she expected him to be. She popped into the command tent where he was leaning over a map, brows furrowed.

 

“You, Commander Rutherford, are late.”

 

“Hmm?” Cullen looked up. “Oh, Emma. Sorry. I’m going to have to cancel our training today.” He looked frazzled, distracted. 

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“I- No. No, I don’t think so. Some soldiers went missing to the south of here. I’ve got to organize the troops to search for them.”

 

“Soldiers went missing?”

 

Cullen sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “We just received word.”

 

“Was it near the Fallow Mire?”

 

He looked at her in surprise. “Yes. How did… ?”

 

Emma leaned over the map and found the spot she was looking for. “There.” She tapped a fortress. “They’re being held there by an Avaar leader. He wants to challenge the Herald to a fight.”

 

“You dreamed this?”

 

“I didn’t know what to make of it at first. I thought it might be far enough in the future that it could wait.” She lied. She had simply forgotten about that plot point. “I’m sorry about your men, Cullen. I should have said something earlier.”

 

“Please, don’t apologise. You didn’t know. I don’t blame you at all.”

 

Emma flashed him a shy smile. “Why didn’t you come talk to me when you found out? It looks like you’ve been pouring over these maps since this morning.”

 

“I didn’t think…” Cullen took a deep breath. “I didn’t think you dreamed about anyone but the Herald.”

 

Emma giggled. “You think I only dream about the Herald?”

 

“The only things you’ve predicted for us have been about events he will be involved in.”

 

“I mean, I dream about him a lot because he will be at the centre of so many events but I dream about other things too. They just aren’t always worth sharing. I even dream about you sometimes.”

 

“I dream about you too.” A heavy silence filled the tent as Emma stared at him in surprise. She watched Cullen’s face shift as he realised what he had said. “Maker’s Breath! I’m sorry.” He self-consciously moved his hand to the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m tired. Please, pretend I never said that.”

 

Emma nodded slowly, remembering the way his breathing had changed when she touched him in the night, how he had called her beautiful.  _ Maybe I’m not imagining this.  _ She left quickly, willing herself not to panic.

 

\--

 

Emma paced around the village. She needed to get out some energy. She needed to be with people, and not just alone with her thoughts. She couldn’t trust them. They turned dark, or they turned filthy. Emma needed to talk to someone safe- possibly someone who she could casually tease and flirt with without being tempted to crawl into their lap and-  _ Stop it Emma!  _ She went to see Blackwall.

 

“I see you were also left behind,” she called as she approached. He was hanging out near the smithy as she had expected, looking a little awkward but also imposing and proud.

 

Blackwall, to her surprise, bowed low as she approached. “It is good to see you, my lady. Yes, the Herald felt that I would best serve by settling in and aiding in the training of new troops arriving tomorrow.”

 

“Hm. I imagine that is a bit of a lie.” She quirked a half smile. “Maxwell likes to be the most handsome and charming man in any group. Your presence would clearly interfere with that goal.”

 

“You are teasing me.”

 

“I am,” she laughed. “But that doesn’t make either of those things untrue.”

 

He laughed with her. “Don’t be cruel to an old man.”

 

“You’re not old, Blackwall.” He gave her a look that said he clearly thought she was still teasing. “Well, I suppose your creaking bones wouldn’t be up for teaching me a few things then. That’s too bad.” She turned to walk away.

 

“Wait. I would be happy to help, but don’t you usually train with the Commander?”

 

Emma shrugged. “He’s busy planning a rescue of some soldiers in the Fallow Mire.”

 

“Well, my lady, I can’t promise to be as good of an instructor as the Commander but I would be happy to be useful.”

 

As it turned out, Blackwall was an excellent instructor, once Emma got used to his style. Unlike Cullen, who let her play around and try things, giving verbal instructions and feedback, Blackwall was much more hands on. He frequently stopped her to adjust her body, her stance, her hold. It was initially frustrating, she wanted to move and shake out the nervous energy she had built up. She wanted to wail on something. She would have been sloppy, she was forced to admit, and Blackwall’s slow and methodical approach was helpful in a different way. 

 

“You are a fast learner, my lady.” He said in a low voice as he slowly moved her body through a dodge so that she could maintain her balance better. “It is my understanding you first picked up a weapon only a couple of weeks ago.”

 

“Thanks. I’ve had good teachers. Present company included, of course.”

 

Blackwall chuckled. “I must admit, I was a bit nervous when we first met.”

 

“Oh?” Emma was pretty sure she knew why, but wondered what he might tell her. “Why is that?”

 

“It’s not every day you meet someone who sees your future, who might know things about you that you don’t realize. What might that person think of you, when they know things about you that you don’t even know yourself?”

 

“An insightful or empathetic person might know things about you that you don’t know yourself. People tend to like them,” she pointed out.

 

“People tend to like you as well, from what I can tell.” They were moving through the dodge sequence again, Emma tried to remember how he had posed and guided her body and maintain that form.

 

“Now that I don’t make you nervous, does that include you?”

 

“Very much.” His smile was broad and open. “You are free with your compliments and your mere presence has earned me the interest and envy of many.”

 

“What?” She wrinkled her nose at him in confusion.

 

“I’ve barely arrived and I’m already getting one-on-one time with the pretty prophet that everyone seems to gossip about. We’ve been getting sidelong glances from the rabble this whole time.”

 

“Oh, now who’s free with the compliments?” She laughed.

 

“Doesn’t mean they’re not true.” He winked as he threw the line back at her. “I must take my leave, however. I have some preparation to do for tomorrow. Thank you for this lovely afternoon, my lady.” He took her hand and leaned over to plant a kiss on her knuckles.

 

“It will never happen again if you don’t agree to call me Emma.”

 

“Very well, thank you for the afternoon  _ Emma. _ ”

 

“You’re welcome. Thank  _ you _ for the lesson, Thom.” They both froze, the panic in their eyes mirroring each other.

 

_ Shit. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dunh dunh dunnnnnh* 
> 
> *somewhere a cliffhanger explodes*


	24. Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry you had to wait all week for the cliffhanger to resolve! I'm still not totally happy with this chapter but I'll not be selfish or self-conscious and post it anyways :)

“Blackwall…” Emma was acutely aware of her esophagus. She felt like she couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe.  _ I need to lie. I need to think of something.  _ “My brother’s name is Thom. I- I’m sorry.” She forced a breathy laugh. “I’m not sure why I called you that.”

 

“How did you know?” His voice was tight, restrained.

 

“I don’t know anything.” She was not convincing.  _ Fuck. _

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I… In the future, you tell the truth.”

 

He pursed his lips together, considering. “Why?”

 

Her heart beat inside her throat. “I’m not sure I should tell you that right now…”

 

He looked like he wanted to argue and then thought better of it. “How long have you known?” Emma took a shaky breath. “Since the beginning,” he answered for her. She nodded. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

She swallowed, finally. “It’s not my secret to tell. Besides, who am I to say that Blackwall isn’t who the Inquisition needs right now? Maybe- Maybe Blackwall is who you need to be.”

 

They stood awkwardly, neither looking at the other directly. 

 

“I should go. I never should have come here.”

 

“No! Please don’t. Fuck. This is my fault. Please.” Emma looked at him with begging eyes. “You can do some real good here.”

 

Blackwall’s face was dark, his eyes sombre. “I can’t be the man you want me to be. I’m not Warden Blackwall, as much as I’ve been pretending.”

 

“I don’t want you to  _ be  _ Blackwall. I just want you to be here. I don’t care what name you use to do it. You can be Thom Rainier if it makes you more comfortable.” She was gaining a small measure of confidence. Every moment he stayed in this conversation was another she could use.

 

“Rainier was not a good man.”

 

“No,” Emma consented. “But he is now.”

 

“No. Blackwall is a good man.”

 

“Oh, you stupid, stubborn man!” He blinked at her in surprise. “Everything you have done since taking his name, it’s all you.  _ You _ were training farmers to defend themselves from bandits.  _ You _ who dropped everything to support a our cause.  _ You _ who wants to promote the good name and deeds of the Wardens! Rainier, Blackwall, it doesn’t matter. You can help us. But if you’d run away because one person here knows you did some bad things in the past, then maybe you aren’t the person I think you are.”

 

Blackwall looked off to the side, examining Haven, before looking back at her. “I will consider your words, my lady.”

 

“Emma.” She reminded.

 

“Emma.” He acquiesced.

 

She returned to her room that night and trembled in a ball made of her own limbs. No matter how much she was learning, she could still fuck things up with a single word. 

 

\--

 

The following morning, Emma was relieved to see Blackwall and Cullen both in the training yard. Blackwall was working with about a dozen fresh faces that must have been the newest recruits. They looked as awkward as she did when she first picked up a sword. Cullen was working with a group of soldiers who had been around a bit longer. Emma crawled up onto the fence to watch.

 

She enjoyed watching the two men, confident and strong and clearly in their element. She idly wondered who would win in a fight between them.  _ Possibly a shirtless fight… _

 

Blackwall was the first to notice her. He bowed, catching the other man’s attention. Cullen waved and moved towards her, stopping when he saw Blackwall already making a direct line to her perch. 

 

“You decided to stay,” she commented as he approached.

 

“You were persuasive.” Emma laughed at his categorization of her begging. He looked thoughtful. “You also didn’t tell me why I would reveal myself. I’m worried if I leave, I might not have the opportunity to find out.”

 

“Blackwall, if you stay, I promise to let you know when the time is right.”

 

He shook his head softly. “What you must think of me, my lady, after all I’ve done.”

 

“It’s still Emma. I… I obviously don’t approve of what you did but I think you’re a good person now. You’re not the only person to lie about themselves.”

 

Blackwall let out a low, sad chuckle. “Keeping everyone else’s secrets too, are we?” 

 

_ And my own.  _ “Something like that.”

 

She moved to leave when Blackwall returned to his recruits, but she was distracted by Cullen. He had his head down, fingers on the bridge of his nose. She frowned, not liking to see him in that tell-tale pose.

 

She tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey you, are you feeling okay?”

 

“Just a headache,” he grumbled quietly.

 

“Can I get you some water? Some elfroot maybe?”

 

Cullen scoffed before looking apologetic. “Sorry, no. It’s not the type of headache that can be fixed with water or even elfroot.”

 

“Oh?” Emma tilted her head, posing a question she already knew the answer to. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me. I just… I hope you know that I’m here for you.”

 

“It is my burden to bear.” He paused. “I have something for you.”

 

“Oh? Like a present?”

 

A blush spread warmly across his cheeks. “I- sort of. From the Inquisition, of course.”

 

He led her to the command tent, where he went to retrieve a bundle from behind his desk. He placed it on the desk in front of her, an uncertain half-smile tugging at his mouth. Emma hesitated, hand hovering over the cloth before unfolding it to reveal a pair of daggers. She lifted one and it felt impossibly light. The blade was slim and made of a silver metal and the handle was carved from a greenish stone that reminded her a bit of jade inlaid with more silvery filament. She ran her fingers over it’s lines. 

 

“It’s stormheart and silverite. It seemed appropriate.”

 

Emma tore her mind, trying to find why they might have been chosen for her. “So stormheart because I’m temperamental and I’ve yelled at you a few too many times?”

 

“There is that.” He smiled. “But no. I- it feels silly now. Nevermind.” She frowned at him, waiting. Cullen looked away shyly but continued, murmuring. “They’re the colours of your eyes. They’re silvery but then, outside, in the light of the Breach they flash green and reflect the storm up there. It makes you look… Turn it over.” He seemed to change his mind about whatever he was going to say. Emma followed in instructions and found her name inscribed on the blade in a flowing script.

 

“Cullen, they’re beautiful…” she breathed. He raised his eyes back to hers. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.” She raised a hand to his cheek and he momentarily closed his eyes, leaning into it. She could feel the slight scratch of stubble.

 

“I almost forgot,” he said as he pulled away. “There is this as well, though it’s not been personalized.” He presented what looked mostly like a set of leather straps, though Emma could tell it was intended to be some sort of holster. It had sheaths for the daggers. 

 

“Could you help me put it on?” 

 

Cullen nodded and Emma found herself holding her breath as he wrapped the belt around her hips, leaning in close to pass it across her back. He tightened the belt, carefully avoiding touching her and then dropped to his knees in front of her, taking a leg strap. He stopped and looked up at her. “Is this okay?” Emma nodded, unable to speak. Cullen licked his lips, hesitating. He wrapped a hand around the back of her thigh and gently guided her leg forward, resting a foot on his knee. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat pooling within her as he wrapped the leg band around her, his fingers dancing over her lightly as he did the buckle over her inner thigh. She looked down as he guided the first leg down and then moved to the second, his hand softly directing her into position. 

 

_ This is normal,  _ she thought.  _ He’s probably helped loads of recruits figure out their equipment. That’s all this is. You need to stop fangirling in your head. _

 

He was steadfastly avoiding her gaze, keeping a distance while at the same time moving more slowly and softly than might have been normal. His fingers trembled as he did up the second buckle and he suddenly gripped her thigh with both hands. Already worked up, she was keenly aware of his fingers at the top of her leg, pressing hard. His eyes clenched as he pressed his forehead into her leg.

 

“Cullen? What’s wrong?” She wanted to drop down to him but he was holding her leg up and she was stuck in place. She placed a hand on the side of his head instead. “How can I help?” Cullen lifted his head, blinking hard. His eyes shifted to where his hands were gripping her and he released her suddenly.

 

“I’m sorry, I- This headache hits me in waves. I didn’t mean to grab at you like that.” 

 

Emma lowered her leg and then kneeled down in front of him. “It’s okay. You must be in a lot of pain.” She swiped a bead of sweat that had formed on his brow with her thumb. “Please tell me how I can help.”

 

She looked at him and she knew that he wouldn’t.


	25. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up that this chapter continues the scene from last chapter directly.

“It’s just a bad day. I can handle this.”

 

“Of course you can,” she soothed. “That doesn’t mean you can’t also lean on me a little bit. Maker knows I’ve leaned on you enough.”

 

“This is different.”

 

“How? Friends support each other. Let me support you.”  _ Stubborn, prideful man.  _ She was trying not to let her exasperation show.

 

“Let me protect you.” He snapped at her.

 

“I don’t need protection from you, Cullen!” She shot back. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but they were both standing now. She stared up at him with her protest.

 

He groaned. “You are infuriating, woman.”

 

“And you are too damn proud for your own good! You don’t have to go through this alone.”

 

“I- ” He stopped. “Maker’s breath. You already know, don’t you?”

 

Emma blushed, giving away the answer.  _ Why am I such a bad liar these days? What is wrong with me? _

 

“Did Cassandra tell you?” He asked hesitantly, like he knew that wasn’t possible but he was scared of other possibilities.

 

“Cullen…”  _ Just breathe. _ “Before I came here, I worked with people who had trauma in their past. Lots of them turned to substances to cope. It’s different than for Templars, but I still know withdrawal when I see it.”

 

“Maker, is it that obvious?” He seemed to crumple, leaning himself against his desk.

 

“Not to anyone else.” He frowned, doubting. “Most people just think you work too hard and don’t eat or sleep enough. That alone is enough to explain those shadows under your eyes, the headaches, the occasional shaking, the irritability. All of it.”

 

Cullen swallowed slowly. “How do you see so much about me when we’ve really only known each other, what, a month?”

 

“We see each other nearly every day. We train together, we plan together, you were there when I was hurt, you were there when John died. Cullen, if I didn’t  _ see _ you… I’d have to care a lot less than I do.” 

 

He took a step closer to her, cupping the side of her face in his hand. “You care about me.” He repeated the words almost as if they were foreign, needed to be puzzled over. Emma raised her head as he leaned towards her. Her stomach tightened, waiting for the feel of his lips on her own, ready to feel that he felt the same way and that he wasn’t holding back anymore. Her mind went suddenly fuzzy and she couldn’t figure out if she wanted to run or stay.

 

He leaned his head forward and rested his forehead on hers instead. His eyes were closed and it was strangely trusting and intimate. “Emma…”

 

“Mm?”

 

“I don’t want you to worry about me. You have enough to carry on your shoulders. This was my choice and I need to get through it on my own.”

 

Emma pulled away and looked at him in disappointment. “You’re wrong, Cullen. So, so wrong. I’m not going to force my help on you but if you ever change your mind or even just have a bit of doubt, I will be here.”

 

She exited the tent then, leaving him to think on what she’d said.

 

\--

 

“You are an amazing woman.” Blackwall snorted.

 

“Don’t make fun of me Blackwall. I needed this.”

 

“I would have thought you’d learn from last time and slow down a bit.”

 

“ _ Totally  _ different situation,” she tapped her fresh tankard against his. “Cheers.”

 

“How is it different?”

 

“That was a party. Tonight I’m drinking to put a stop to all the feelings.” She took a large gulp of the ale and stared into its suddenly fascinating foam. “If you’re not up for it, I’m good without you by the way.”

 

“Not a chance. Someone who can hold their ale better needs to watch out for you.”

 

“You’re just worried I’ll start telling all your secrets,” she slurred.

 

“I am not just worried about that,” he hissed at her. “But you could watch how loud you say things like that.”

 

“Oh, relax.” Emma stood up on her chair. “Everyone! I would like to share a secret about our local Warden.” Blackwall had leapt to her side and was trying to pull her down without drawing more attention. “I have seen the future,” she continued, “and I saw him give a woman  _ five  _ orgasms in a-” Blackwall finally wrestled her down and clapped a hand over her mouth.

 

“What are you doing?” He whispered in her ear before pushing her into her chair.

 

“Getting you noticed.” Emma took another drink. “You’re welcome.”

 

Blackwall began laughing as what she had actually said slowly crystallized for him. “I don’t need that kind of notice, you daft woman!”

 

“Ahhh, every man needs that kind of notice sometimes.” 

 

“I wouldn’t even know what to do with it.” He shook his head at her, still chuckling. “Besides, you just set expectations way too high.”

 

“Oh I’m sure you learned a few tricks in your life,” she winked.

 

“It’s been a long time.”

 

“Really? Why? There must be plenty of women who want to be bedded by a Grey Warden.”

 

“You are very crass when you’re drunk.”

 

She grinned. “One of my best qualities.” She finished her tankard in one long go. “Another please, Flissa!”

 

“Ignore her!” Blackwall called out after. “You have had enough for one night.”

 

Emma glowered at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”

 

“I’m not. I’m your friend who is willing to piss you off now so you don’t hate me in the morning.”

 

“Maxwell would let me drink more,” she pointed out.

 

“The Herald would also fall drunkenly into bed with you to sleep it off in solidarity and set all of Haven on alert when they can’t find you in the morning.”

 

“Then why don’t you take me to bed tonight and we can get a whole new set of rumors going?”

 

Blackwall looked shocked for only a moment before rolling his eyes in thorough exasperation. “You don’t want that. You’re mad about something but you don’t want me and you don’t want people to think you do.”

 

Emma pressed her lips together in a tight line. 

 

“That’s what I thought. Come on, Emma. Let’s take you home.”

 

“This isn’t my home. I have no home. I have no one who cares about me or what I want.” She wanted to indulge in her self-pity, even knowing it wasn’t really a fair assessment.

 

“That’s not true. The Herald cares about you. The Commander cares. Varric and the Ambassador care. Andraste’s tits, Emma, I care about you.”

 

“Then drink with me.”

 

Blackwall groaned. “I should have seen that coming. I care about you but, right now, I don’t care about what you want. I care about what’s good for you.”

 

She scoffed. “I’m still getting another drink.” Her determination was dying but she wasn’t ready to cave yet. 

 

She yelped when Blackwall decided not to give her the chance. He picked her up out of her chair and threw her over his shoulder. “Let’s go, my lady. Time to say goodnight to the bar.”

 

“Put me down!” He ignored her and marched steadily toward the door. “What the fuck, Blackwall?!”

 

“If you’d behaved, maybe I would let you walk.” He pushed open the door using his other shoulder.

 

“You can’t just treat me like this!” She yelled impotently into the night.

 

“Which way to your bed?”

 

“I shan’t tell you.”

 

“Trust me, you don’t want me hauling you, beautiful ass in the air, all the way across Haven to my bed.”

 

Emma snickered. “You think so?”

 

She could practically feel him rolling his eyes at her. “Which way?”

 

“Just what is going on here?”

 

“Perhaps you should put her down, Warden Blackwall.”

 

Emma felt herself promptly placed upon the ground. She turned to face a rather angry looking Cullen and a concerned Leliana.

 

“The lady has had too much to drink and I was taking her home.”

 

“Is this true?” Leliana’s eyes turned to her. 

 

“Well, I would argue with his definition of ‘too much’ but more or less, yes.”

 

“Thank you, Warden Blackwall. I will take Emma from here.” She could hear the quiet irritation in Cullen’s voice and, after his refusal of her support that afternoon, it inflamed her drunken anger.

 

“You will not. I told you I don’t need your protection.”

 

“Well, I’m certainly not letting him carry you around Haven like that.”

 

“Oh, Andraste’s mercy! I will accompany Lady Emma to her bed and you two can stay here pretending that you are not considerably overreacting to a drunk adult simply because she happens to be a woman.” With that, Leliana grabbed her arm and stalked off with Emma in tow. “Men,” she muttered. “J’en ai marre. Ils peuvent aller se faire enculer…” 

 

Emma blinked, her brain working a little slow thanks to the alcohol but still functioning well enough that she was pretty sure Leliana had spoken French.  _ I’m sick of it. They can go get fucked. _ Why had Leliana spoken French?

 

Her mind started piecing things together. Common seemed to be English as far as she could tell. Leliana was Orlesian… “Parles-tu la langue d’Orlais actuellement?”  _ Are you speaking Orlesian right now?  _

 

Leliana looked at her, surprised. “Oui, tu parles aussi?”  _ Yes, you speak it as well? _

 

“Un peu. Je l’ai étudié mais c’est pas ma langue préférée. Je lis meilleure que je parle.” At least, she was pretty sure that’s what she said. Her drunken slur might have grown with the added difficulty of a second language.  _ A little, I studied it but it’s not my favourite language. I read it better than I speak. _

 

“How interesting that you are from somewhere strange and far and yet you speak and read Orlesian. You are truly fascinating, Lady Emma.” She paused. “Josephine will be thrilled. The fact that you are educated and speak the tongue of Orlais will certainly garner more interest from nobles than you presenting as an ordinary commoner.”

 

“I am a commoner.”

 

“An educated commoner who is unfamiliar with menial labour,” Leliana grabbed Emma’s hands and poked her palms to emphasize that point, “is a curious thing indeed. We are at your lodgings, Lady Emma. Don’t do anything that would upset any uptight, over-protective males, yes?”


	26. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “We see each other nearly every day. We train together, we plan together, you were there when I was hurt, you were there when John died. Cullen, if I didn’t see you… I’d have to care a lot less than I do.”
> 
> \--
> 
> With that, Leliana grabbed her arm and stalked off with Emma in tow. “Men,” she muttered. “J’en ai marre. Ils peuvent aller se faire enculer…”

She was less hungover than she’d expected, given the ass she’d made of herself last night. She opened the door to a large figure shifting in her doorway. “Oh! Emma. I… was just about to knock.”

 

“How long have you been standing there?”

 

Cullen cleared his throat. “You forgot these yesterday.” Ignoring her question, he held out the cloth that had held her daggers. Emma smiled reflexively as she reached for them. She ran her hands over the cloth lovingly. He was still standing in her doorway. “I feel like I should be apologising. I did  _ something _ wrong, clearly, but I’m not sure...” He knit his brows as he spoke, watching her face.

 

“Do you want to come inside? It’s small but it’s more private than standing in my doorway.”

 

Cullen nodded and moved in, closing the door behind him. Emma leaned against the chest of drawers to make space but he stayed hovering near the door. Looking down, Emma tried to organize her thoughts. “You don’t have to apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong but… I would like to ask you something.”

 

He paused before assenting. “I will do my best.”

 

“We spend a lot of time together and I think I just realised yesterday that most of that time is about one thing. Whether we’re training, or you’re chastising me for recklessness, or comforting me because something bad has happened… It’s all about you protecting me. I guess I’m not sure if we’re really friends or if you just protect me as an asset to the Inquisition. Which, it’s fine if you are, I just want to know why you never let me in.” Her words poured out in a barely coherent ramble, during which she was too embarrassed to actually look at him. 

 

“Emma,” he started before casting his eyes around the room helplessly. He took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled off his fur mantle. He then reached up and began undoing the straps on his cuirass.

 

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m not the best with words so… so I’m showing you something.” Emma stared as Cullen methodically removed his armor and finally pulled off his shirt. He was matter-of-fact and deliberate. Still, Emma drank in the sight of his corded muscles, hard and powerful and flexing with tension as he stood before her. A dusting of blonde hair spread over his chest and ran in a line down his stomach to the edge of his trousers. She felt herself growing flush with heat as Cullen stepped towards her. “Do you see these scars?” He gestured, slowly, pointing at a few of them. “They’re not that terrible because I wear armour most of the time, but-” He stopped and licked his lips, considering. “What you would find on the inside, there are so many and they are so much more hideous… they make these look like papercuts. You don’t want see them. I don’t want you to see them. You shouldn’t have to. That’s… the best I can explain.”

 

Emma reached towards him, hovered her hand over a large scar that ran from his left shoulder diagonally into his chest, waited for permission. She wasn’t sure how, he didn’t move or say anything, but he gave it and she placed tentative fingers on his bare skin, tracing the lines that etched their way across his body. “Your scars are not hideous, Cullen. They’re just part of who you are.” Feeling bold, she reached up and brushed a thumb across the scar that bisected his upper lip. “Both the ones that face the world, and the ones you keep hidden.”

 

Cullen was still, a studied stoicism holding his body rigid, so she pulled away. “I understand though.”

 

“You do?” His voice was husky, broken, quiet.

 

“Now you wear your armour on the inside too.”

 

“I- I don’t keep you out because I’m worried you’ll hurt me. I keep you out so I don’t hurt you.”

 

“I think maybe it’s a little bit of both.” She smiled at him sadly, and he began redressing. “Cullen?”

 

He stopped as he was doing up the straps on his cuirass. “Yes?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

He frowned at her, confused. “For what?”

 

“For sharing a bit of yourself with me.” She hesitated and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed. You’re a good friend, I was being stupid. I was just feeling vulnerable. It’s hard to know how people feel about you when you’re...” 

 

He took her hands in his then and pulled her to a standing position so he could look her in the eyes. “I don’t ever want you to doubt again that I care about you for who you are and not what you can do.”

 

Emma nodded, silently. He lifted her hands to his lips and brushed a soft kiss over her knuckles before turning and leaving. Emma felt a shiver run its way up her spine and into her head, leaving her feeling lightheaded.  _ It’s going to be hard to be only friends. _

 

\--

 

In the days leading to Maxwell’s return, Emma spent as much time as she could training with Blackwall and Cullen. Since Lysette had returned to her regular duties, she couldn’t feed her body with enough practice hours. The rational part of her told her that she was trying to cope with something, and poorly. 

 

She had also started doing yoga outside during the day and had even gained a student.

 

“I’m not certain I understand the point of this,” Rina pouted from the ground after falling during one of her poses.

 

Emma stopped her own practice and helped the woman up. “Well, you might gain some balance for one thing,” she giggled. “It’s also good for flexibility, posture, blood flow.” She shrugged. She wasn’t a teacher, she just attended classes to encourage her clients and it had become a regular part of her routine for the past few years.

 

Emma had learned to ignore her surroundings and centre herself in what she was doing, but Rina had less of that skill. She frequently stopped to yell at people who watched them with anything other than curiosity. Somehow, Rina had a second sense for when someone was being judgmental or even lecherous about two women stretching and posing together. “Three options!” she’d taken to shouting. They were to join them, move along, or have Rina kick their ass all the way to the Western Approach. The woman had really come into her element.

 

For her own part, Emma was a little surprised to have made a friend that wasn’t someone from the game. She had naturally gravitated to them because they were known but Rina’s shy, and later confident, waves anytime she approached the training grounds were appealing and she had eventually wandered over.

 

“How are you doing,” she had asked. Rina had grinned at her and declared getting better with a sword was the best cure for fear, and then admitted that she still had panic attacks sometimes but was learning to control them better by focusing on her breathing like Emma had taught her. 

 

It was the breathing that caused Rina to stick with yoga, despite her frustrations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma skipped off to her little hut to investigate but practically skidded to a halt as she approached. Solas was waiting by her door. “What are you doing here?”
> 
> “I have come to make amends.” His response had no emotional attunement and he moved his hands behind his back in a studied pose of calmness and neutrality.


	27. Returned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> He took her hands in his then and pulled her to a standing position so he could look her in the eyes. “I don’t ever want you to doubt again that I care about you for who you are and not what you can do.”

**** “The Herald has returned! Fetch Master Dennet.” Emma leapt to her feet as she heard the call and a messenger took off towards the stables. She had been watching the troops train, or rather, watching Cullen train them. In the absence of internet, and even non-Chantry reading, she found alone time was mostly spent in her own mind, ruminating, and punctuated by fond gazing at the handsome ex-Templar. If anyone noticed her preoccupation, they didn’t say anything. Perhaps she spent enough time training, working with Rina, and hanging at the tavern with Blackwall to lower the noticeability of her inclination. Still, she was pleased for the diversion that the returning party offered.

 

Emma sprinted down the road, her hair flying out of its braid as she went. She could see the whole retinue down the hill.  _ Vivienne does not pack light.  _ Sera’s trademark snorting laughter could be heard, its high pitch causing it to travel farther than the throatier laughs of the rest.

 

“Emma!” Maxwell’s greeting immediately caused her to break out in a smile. He swung off his horse as they approached and scooped her up into a hug. “Darling girl, I have missed you.”

 

“How was Val Royeaux?”

 

“You will not believe it, the Templars have gone completely insane.” 

 

He threw a sideways look at Cassandra, who shook her head angrily. “I cannot understand what they are thinking.”

 

As stablehands arrived and began leading away the mounts, Maxwell took Emma’s hand and led her to the rest of the group.

 

“Emma, I would like to introduce Madame de Fer, Lead Enchanter and former advisor to Empress Celine, and Sera of the Red Jennys.”

 

“It’s so nice to meet you Madame Enchanter.” Emma did her best to give what she thought might be an appropriate curtsy.

 

“Sera,” she grinned. “So excited-” As she moved towards the elf, Sera backed away putting her hands in front of her.

 

“You the prophet then? Right creepy, you are. You just stay away from me.” And with that she stalked off.

 

“Don’t worry about it darling,” Vivienne purred as she snaked her arm through Emma’s. “Some individuals simply hold the most pedestrian superstitions.”

 

Emma bit her bottom lip lightly. “I suppose.”

 

“You simply must tell me about how you do this future dreaming, my dear.” Vivienne continued as she led Emma away from the group.  _ What is going on?  _ Emma followed trying to sort out in her head how she had ended up spending alone time with the ambitious mage while the promise of joking with Sera and having a bunch of fun with her had been stolen.

 

“I don’t  _ do  _ it. It just happens sometimes.”

 

Vivienne clucked her tongue in disappointment. “Well, perhaps working together we can sort out what the secret is, hmm? Now, do share with me some of these visions you’ve had. I understand you were aware of my interest in your little Inquisition before even I was.”

 

Emma did her best to blow the woman off politely. The interrogation, despite coming from a place of complete self-interest, made her nervous the same way Solas’s delving into her dreams did. She didn’t want to be an enigma or a potential source of power. She wanted to get through this and maybe help out where she could.

 

“How could you abandon me with her?” She hissed at Maxwell when she found him again.

 

“That woman terrifies me. I am not the one to turn to if you need saving.”

 

“You’ll tackle Cassandra to the ground but you won’t make up an excuse to steal me away from one mage?”

 

Maxwell grinned. “Cassandra has a soft spot for my roguish charms. The Madame de Fer would take my charms, wrap them around her smallest finger, light them on fire, and call them dessert.”

 

“That was… visceral.”

 

“Still, she’ll be a good ally,” he sighed. “You were right. I would have ignored her invitation if you hadn’t encouraged it but her interest has already garnered the interest of certain Orlesian nobles who had scorned us before.”

 

“Are you okay?” Emma searched his face. He looked wan and emotionally tired.

 

“I hate Val Royeaux. The Game is exhausting. I brought you some presents though.”

 

Emma bounced on her heels. “Ooh. What did you get me?”

 

“They’re in your cabin,” he laughed. 

 

Emma skipped off to her little hut to investigate but practically skidded to a halt as she approached. Solas was waiting by her door. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I have come to make amends.” His response had no emotional attunement and he moved his hands behind his back in a studied pose of calmness and neutrality.

 

Emma shifted her weight to one foot and folded her arms, immediately suspicious. “Why?”

 

“It has been presented to me that your comfort may determine whether or not I am permitted to remain here.”

 

“So… That means Maxwell threatened to kick you out of Haven if you didn’t leave me alone?”

 

“With Seeker Pentaghast’s approval, yes.”

 

Emma lifted the corner of her mouth in a self-satisfied grin. “Alright, go ahead then. Make your amends.”

 

Solas shifted uncomfortably. “I had not quite determined how I would go about that just yet.”

 

“And yet you are here.”

 

“I had to ensure you would not simply demand my removal the moment your opinion was sought out.”

 

“I would not ask for that anyways, Solas.” Emma sighed. “I might not like it, but you are needed here.”  _ Also, I need to keep you close until I can figure out how to contend with your plans to end the goddamn world... _

 

His eyebrows raised in surprise, but he simply waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he gave a brief nod. “Ma serannas,” he muttered as he turned to walk away. Despite herself, Emma smiled at the thought that he remembered her using those words. 

 

Emma pushed open the door to discover a room littered with packages. The small size of the space made the sheer number of gifts look particularly ridiculous. A note on top of one of the bundles was the first thing she went for. She was surprised to find Varric’s handwriting in it.

 

_ Hey Visions, _

 

_ This was mostly Max’s doing but this one is from me. My other present to you is the knowledge that he forced Cassandra to help him with the selection, which she made both of us promise not to tell anyone. Obviously, I lied. _

 

_ Varric _

 

Emma smiled and opened the package from him. They contained a copy of Hard in Hightown and another book that she didn’t recognize. Opening the unfamiliar one, she found an inscription.

 

_ To Emma, _

 

_ When I can’t go home, I like to escape to somewhere special. This is one of my favourites. I hope you like it as much as I do.  _

 

_ Varric Tethras _

 

Emma felt one tear escape before she straightened up. She was trying to be - _ No, I am- _ harder, less vulnerable, but his sweetness had surprised her. 

 

The rest of the packages were filled with clothes. They were mostly simple and functional, soft leggings and tunics. There was a bodice and a long brown skirt, and a simple blue dress obviously intended for more social occasions. A grey wool cloak lined with fur was immediately thrown around her shoulders and nuzzled into. A second pair of boots and a pair of shoes were also there. The final package made her actually squeal aloud: undergarments. Her bra from home had been falling to pieces. The two breast bands to replace it were simple but would work just fine considering her small size. The bottoms were the greatest joy. She had been forced to go without anytime she had her underwear cleaned and those were getting pretty ratty as well. 

 

She took out the blue dress and slid it over her head before pulling on the ties in the back that tightened it around her waist. She paused to fix her braid before throwing the cloak back around her and putting on the new shoes, she went to the tavern looking for someone she could thank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “You’re drunk!” She called up to him. “And I haven’t even started yet!”
> 
> “Better catch up then!”


	28. Tavern (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “I had to ensure you would not simply demand my removal the moment your opinion was sought out.”
> 
> “I would not ask for that anyways, Solas.” Emma sighed. “I might not like it, but you are needed here.” Also, she thought, I need to keep you close until I can figure out how to contend with your plans to end the goddamn world...

Emma could hear the raucous party that was happening long before she opened the door. She had never seen the tavern so busy and filled with cheer. When she entered, she was only half surprised to see Maxwell standing on the bar with Sera and reciting a dirty poem between snorts of laughter. “Emma!” He shouted and lifted his mug towards her. Sera steadfastly ignored her.

 

“You’re drunk!” She called up to him. “And I haven’t even started yet!”

 

“Better catch up then!”

 

She looked around and spotted Varric and Blackwall laughing full-throatedly at the scene and saw Cassandra looking on disapprovingly from a corner. She was surprised to see Cullen sitting with her and she offered him a quizzical smile that he returned openly. He was not her immediate focus however. With Maxwell busy on the bar, she decided to thank her other gifter first. She moved towards Varric and Blackwall. 

 

“Hey Vis-” Varric started to greet her but she interrupted him, placing a hand on each shoulder and planting a kiss firmly on his cheek. He instantly turned a bright shade of red.

 

Emma slid into a seat next to him as Blackwall asked, “What was that for?”

 

“He knows.”

 

“Okay, how do I get one?” He teased with a raised eyebrow.

 

“You can’t,” she smiled. “I couldn’t even find your cheek through all that beard.”

 

Maxwell returned to the table with Sera, who notably sat at the opposite corner from Emma. “I see you found your presents,” he commented, gesturing to her dress.

 

“They were wonderful. You are my absolute hero today.” She couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear, feeling happy and whole for the first time since- She shook her head, refusing to go there.

 

“But I don’t get a kiss?” Maxwell faked a pout. “One would think the chosen of Andraste and your personal hero would merit at least as much affection as some beardless dwarf.”

 

“Your reward is getting to see how stunning I look in all my new outfits and feeling the satisfaction of knowing it was your doing.” 

 

“Not a chance,” he announced before grabbing her chin and kissing her directly on the mouth. It was chaste, friendly, and delivered with an emphatic smacking noise, but it shocked her regardless and she let out a little squeak in response. “There. Still ahead.”

 

Varric leaned back with a cocky smile. “I don’t know. A kiss on the cheek given freely still seems better than one on the mouth that was stolen.”

 

Blackwall laughed. “He’s got you there.”

 

“I will have to let you gentlemen discuss the merits of each without me.” Emma had noticed Sera’s surly sulking in the corner and decided to give the elf some space. There were others she could spend time with. “Though I tend to agree with Varric,” she added as a parting shot.

 

She deftly maneuvered through the crowd towards the back corner. Cassandra and Cullen were speaking in low voices and they stopped when she approached. Emma hesitated, “I don’t want to interrupt.”

 

“You’re not.” Cullen quickly stood and pulled out a chair for her. “I’m afraid we won’t be as entertaining as the table you just left, however.” She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes raked her over in the new dress and she was suddenly aware of how much more it accentuated her waist and hips than anything she’d worn to date.

 

“That table might be just a little too boisterous for my mood tonight. Besides,” Emma flicked a glance back towards them, “I make Sera uncomfortable so I thought I’d give her some space.”

 

Cassandra snorted lightly. “I’ve never seen someone as frightened of magic as that one. Unfamiliar magic… I can only imagine.”

 

Emma nodded slowly. “How are you doing, Cassandra? Val Royeaux couldn’t have been easy.”

 

“I am both furious and concerned about the Lord Seeker’s actions.” She sighed. “But perhaps we could speak of less trying subjects. I trust you are pleased with Lord Trevelyan’s gifts?” Cassandra had just a hint of vulnerability in her expression.

 

“Gifts?” Cullen asked.

 

Emma smiled. “He brought me back some new clothing from the city. Didn’t you notice my pretty, new dress?” She knew full well that he had from his reaction before, but couldn’t resist the light teasing anyways.

 

“I tend not to be very observant about your attire.” He responded stiffly.  _ Liar. _ “It’s a lovely colour on you.” He added, softening his tone.

 

“To answer your question though, I’m completely thrilled. He must have made good friends with the shopkeepers,” she added slyly. “I can’t imagine he simply had a natural affinity for picking out women’s clothing.”

 

Cassandra’s face coloured lightly before she continued. “Do you still believe the Herald does not have feelings for you?” Cullen began coughing as he choked on his ale at her words. Cassandra shot him a look that Emma couldn’t quite read.

 

“Firmly,” she responded. It took all her willpower not to look at Cullen as she said so.

 

“Even after he kissed you just now?” She pressed. Emma’s puzzled expression earned only a mild smile.  _ What is your aim here, Cassandra? _

 

“I think Maxwell has more charm than to demand a kiss of gratitude from me if he was really angling for my affections. Now perhaps we could also speak about something other than my  _ absent _ love life?”

 

“Yes. We can,” Cullen said firmly. He had fixed an intense stare at Cassandra who appeared not to notice.

 

\--

 

_ Emma opened the door and she was standing in Haven. Something was off but, it was definitely Haven. Emma pursed her lips, considering whether she was dreaming or not. She pinched herself; nothing happened. Suddenly it struck her, there was no Breach. That’s why Haven looked wrong. _

 

_ “It appears quite nondescript without a swirling void in the sky, doesn’t it?” Solas walked up beside her, hands clasped behind his back. She was definitely dreaming. _

 

_ “After all our words today, you took my statement as free rein to just keep doing this shit?” Emma flexed her hands, resisting the urge to smack him.  _

 

_ “Not at all,” he responded, all calmness. “This is my form of apology. Or did it not occur to you that this was not one of your dreams?” _

 

_ It took her a moment to process his words. “It had not,” she said slowly. _

 

_ “You see into the future. My relationship with spirits allows me to peer into the past.” He paused looking around. “I thought you might like to see what it looked like before the explosion.” _

 

_ Emma followed his gaze up the mountain. She was stunned she hadn’t noticed it before, the Temple of Sacred Ashes was whole and striking against the night sky. “It’s magnificent.” _

 

_ Solas shrugged. “For Andrastian architecture it is quite striking but it is hardly among the great marvels of our world.” _

 

_ She thought on his words for a bit. “Would you show me?” _

 

_ “Perhaps.” He crooked a hint of a self-satisfied grin in her direction. She was startled when she saw figures moving in the shadows, heading towards the temple. As moonlight flashed across the face of one of the individuals, she felt a glimmer of recognition. _

 

_ “Are they real?” _

 

_ “They are merely a memory.” _

 

_ Emma approached, curious. “That’s Leliana!” She jogged further forward. It was the bard, but much younger. She cast her eyes over the companions. She recognized two of them in an instant. “That’s Morrigan, and Alistair.” _

 

_ “Interesting that a woman from a strange and distant land is on a first name basis with the King of Ferelden,” Solas mused from behind her. _

 

_ “He wasn’t always a king.” She looked to the final figure, a mage she didn’t recognize, but she must be the Warden. They were here for the Ashes of Andraste; here to save the Arl. “Wait, you’re still using this as an opportunity to try and dig into my head, aren’t you?” _

 

_ “I have not ceased being curious about you, shira’lan.” _

 

_ Emma blinked at him in confusion. “Shira’lan, what does that mean?”  _

 

_ “In Common the closest terms would be wanderer, or traveler.” _

 

_ “Is that what you think I am?” _

 

_ “You come from an unfathomable distance away, and you see many places when you wander the fade, places even I have not accessed. I think it is a more accurate description than Varric’s limited term.” _

 

_ “If you say so.” She rolled her eyes. “Can we follow them?” _

 

_ Solas regarded her for a moment. “They have already left.” _

 

_ “Then take me home. I don’t wish to be interrogated in your corner of the fade anymore than I do in mine.” _

  
_ “As you wish.” Solas bowed slightly and  _ Emma opened her eyes to the sight of her own room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> Emma shook her head, and then looked at him shyly. “You’ll have good company at least.”
> 
> “This Krim is a good bloke then?”
> 
> “It’s Krem, and yes… but also I’m coming.”
> 
> Cullen growled an “Absolutely not.” at the same time Maxwell said “Wonderful!”


	29. Schemes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “But I don’t get a kiss?” Maxwell faked a pout. “One would think the chosen of Andraste and your personal hero would merit at least as much affection as some beardless dwarf.”
> 
> \--
> 
> “After all our words today, you took my statement as free rein to just keep doing this shit?” Emma flexed her hands, resisting the urge to smack him. 
> 
> “Not at all,” he responded, all calmness. “This is my form of apology. Or did it not occur to you that this was not one of your dreams?”

Emma was, surprisingly, not the last to arrive at the council meeting. She walked into Josephine and Leliana’s laughter. “Seems that I may have missed something,” she commented.

 

Josephine waved away her question. “Simply discussing the old days.”

 

“Josie here used to be a bard before she turned her mind towards diplomacy. She was quite skilled.” Josephine blushed at her praise.

 

“Leliana seems to remember things a bit differently than I do.” She walked around the table and took Emma’s arm lightly. “Now, Emma. You have been keeping a secret from us.” Emma froze, unsure how to respond. It would depend on which secret had been found out. “I cannot believe you did not inform me that you speak Orlesian!” 

 

“Very poorly.” Emma let out a shaky laugh.

 

“Better than many not from Orlais. Learning new languages is not a common pursuit, especially not to read and write them.” Emma wasn’t sure if Leliana was being honest or simply flattering her.

 

“It’s not uncommon where I’m from. Many people speak two or three languages.”

 

“Really? To what purpose? Common serves well unless there are nuances of phrase or decorum that require otherwise.”

 

Emma wasn’t quite sure how to answer without giving too much away. “Not everyone speaks Common.”

 

Josephine frowned slightly. “I have never met a person who did not speak Common before. Even the most reclusive Tevinter speaks Common.” Emma simply shrugged. “Well, regardless of the reasons, we will be able to pass this off delightfully.”

 

“Pass what off?” Cullen and Maxwell entered the war room together. Emma wasn’t sure she’d ever seen them have a conversation alone and wondered if it was a coincidence or not that they’d arrived at the same time.

 

Both men looked surprised at the answer. “Why didn’t you tell me, you sneaky minx?” Maxwell poked at her playfully. “We could have been having secret conversations about people behind their backs this whole time!”

 

“I honestly didn’t even know. We don’t call it Orlesian where I’m from.”

 

“You must be from very far away indeed if you don’t associate the language with Orlais,” Leliana commented.

 

“You’re telling me.” Emma realized she was in a bit of a trap of her own making.  _ That far away sort of means not from Thedas _ . Not from Thedas begged the question, from where?

 

“Do you speak any other languages?” Cullen asked quietly.

 

“Hablo una otra idioma pero no sé si es una idioma aquí.”

 

Josephine shrieked. “Hablas Antivan! Emma, how did you not share this with us before? You are such a treasure.”

 

Emma blushed under the woman’s excitement. “I speak it even worse than I speak Orlesian, I’m afraid.”

 

“Still, we will have to take advantage of this. Your education will allow you to move in much higher circles than your future sight alone would support. Leliana and I must teach you the Game.” Emma’s eyes began to widen nervously as Josephine enthused about her potential. She was definitely not interested in learning the Game. 

 

Cullen swooped in to rescue her at that moment. “Perhaps we could turn the conversation to more important matters?” She raised her eyes to his to offer thanks but he was pointedly scowling at the war table map.

 

“Yes, of course. Josie and I can discuss this with Emma at another time.”  _ Great.  _ “Herald, we have received a request for a meeting from a Qunari mercenary.”

 

Maxwell shifted his weight to one side and leaned on the table. “Interesting. Did he say why?”

 

“He is offering aid to the Inquisition. Evidently he leads a mercenary company.”

 

Maxwell looked to Emma. “You can trust him. But you should know that he is Ben-Hassrath and has been sent specifically to spy on us.”

 

“Those statements do not precisely align, Emma.” Josephine appeared genuinely confused.

 

“We have one of his men. We can simply imprison him.”

 

“No, please. Leliana, I meant it when I said we could trust him. Krem is loyal to The Iron Bull but he also genuinely wants to help the Inquisition. And The Iron Bull will not send anything compromising to the Qunari. He will eventually cause them to be interested in forming an alliance with us.” She was aware of the anxious edge in her voice as the words came rushing out.

 

“You have seen all this in a dream?” Leliana looked slightly skeptical.

 

“Across a couple of different dreams, but yes. Have I steered you wrong yet?”

 

“Don’t worry, we believe you Emma.” Maxwell took her hand and squeezed it.

 

“It is not that I do not trust you, of course. It is simply a rather lot to take on faith. What do you think, Commander?”

 

Cullen pressed his eyes closed. “You’re right, it is a lot - but I trust Emma, unreservedly.”

 

“Great. It’s settled then. I’ll accompany this man to meet his leader. Where is the meeting point?”

 

Emma looked down at where she had subconsciously begun to pick at her nails. “The Storm Coast.”

 

“Oh, you’re bloody kidding me. Maker’s hairy ballsack! Can’t we just send a missive inviting him here?”

 

Emma shook her head, and then looked at him shyly. “You’ll have good company at least.”

 

“This Krim is a good bloke then?”

 

“It’s Krem, and yes… but also I’m coming.”

 

Cullen growled an “Absolutely not.” at the same time Maxwell said “Wonderful!”

 

“It seems a rather unnecessary risk, Emma.” Josephine’s lilting voice persuaded and soothed at the same time. Leliana had simply raised an eyebrow.

 

“I want to go,” she repeated firmly. “I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines while others endanger themselves based on  _ my  _ words.”

 

“It’s too dangerous.” Cullen had put on his Commander voice, the one that brokered no argument.

 

“So much for trusting me  _ unreservedly, _ ” she shot at him.

 

“Don’t worry Commander. I’ll keep our little Emma out of danger and bring her home to you safe and sound.” Emma saw the flash of anger that resulted from Maxwell’s teasing.

 

“I won’t allow it.”

 

“It’s not your call to make.”

 

The two men stared each other down, looking like it could come to blows at any moment. “For crying out loud! Okay, that’s enough. I won’t go.” Emma turned and marched out of the war room and listened to Maxwell jog behind her to catch up.

 

“You don’t have to give in simply because he used his  _ commanding  _ tone.”

 

“I don’t intend to,” Emma replied mildly.

 

“So you’re coming anyways?”

 

“Of course I am.”

 

\--

 

Getting Varric’s buy in was the first step. “You’ve been training for what, a month? I don’t know if I could forgive myself if we let something happen to you.”

 

“I promise I’ll stay out of trouble, Varric. I just really need this.”

 

“No one thinks you’re a coward for staying behind. You don’t have to prove anything, Visions.”

 

“Not to you. I have to prove it to myself. Also,” she grinned slyly. “I have another reason for wanting to go- it’s probably going to be my only chance to see a giant fighting a dragon.”

 

Varric raised his eyebrows. “Well, shit. How can I possibly deny you that opportunity?”

 

Cassandra was right out. There was no way she would approve of Emma tagging along, and even less likely was the idea that she would help sneak her off and keep the secret from Cullen. Luckily Blackwall was as amenable as they come. He laughed loudly at the scheme and promised to be Emma’s shield for the journey. He even agreed to secret away some light armor for her when Harritt wasn’t looking.

 

Emma was fairly certain Sera would out her just to avoid having to travel that long with a woman she didn’t trust. That left determining whether Solas or Vivienne would keep the secret.

 

“The First Enchanter seems quite taken with your powers. Perhaps you could tell her some little tidbit as compensation?” Maxwell leaned back, tapping the tavern table thoughtfully.

 

Emma wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I really want to feed her ambition or ego any more than it already is.”

 

“Fair. I’m also not certain how she would feel about being dragged off to the Storm Coast. I don’t really want to listen to anyone’s complaining but my own.”

 

“I think Solas might agree. He wouldn’t be thrilled but he’s hardly a stranger to deception and I don’t think he’d exactly mind having my mind close by in the fade.”

 

“Emma, he’s not still doing that is he? He said he’d apologised.”

 

She snorted. “I don’t know if apologised is really the word for what he did…. But I think he’s done invading my dreams. He,” she paused and tilted her head as she thought of what words to use, “invited me into one of his.”

 

“That sounds rather intimate.”

 

“I don’t think it is for him.”

 

Solas, ultimately, agreed to have Emma come along and to help with plans. When he said it would be nice for the opportunity to get to know her better, Emma shivered a little. His tone never indicated anything malicious, but for her, him getting to know her better was a threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She was about to gather herself enough to ask but he leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Tell me when he is no longer looking.”
> 
> He was looking. He looked angry. He looked like he was about to come over.


	30. Pulling it Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “No one thinks you’re a coward for staying behind. You don’t have to prove anything, Visions.”
> 
> “Not to you. I have to prove it to myself. Also,” she grinned slyly. “I have another reason for wanting to go- it’s probably going to be my only chance to see a giant fighting a dragon.”

She was packing and organizing at the same time. Maxwell’s presents were taking up a ridiculous amount of space since she hadn’t bothered to put them away yet. She began folding items into her drawers and pulling out nonsense items she didn’t need. There were much more practical packs than her old purse. She had no need for a waffle iron in a land without electricity. She tenderly folded John’s old hoodie, the one she had been returning, back into the drawer. She paused when she looked at Cullen’s shirt.  _ Will he want this back?  _ She pressed her lips together, folded it into a drawer as well. She kept her keys as well, just in case she was transported back home and no time had passed. Or something.

 

She found her phone. She hadn’t even looked at it since before John passed. She turned it on, only half a charge left but she had John’s solar charger. She didn’t need to conserve it. 

 

She sighed and was about to turn it back off again when the door flipped open.

 

“You could knock.”

 

Maxwell shrugged and laughed at her. “You were taking too long.”

 

“What if I was naked?”

 

“Then I would have admired you in all your glory and told you that you were taking too long.”

 

Emma giggled, his lack of hang ups entertaining her. “I got distracted,” she admitted. “My room wasn’t exactly well organized.”

 

“Well, let’s hurry up. Blackwall’s going to sneak your supplies into the kit for the horses.”

 

“Then maybe Blackwall should be here telling me that I’m taking too long,” she teased.

 

“Not a chance. Don’t know what would happen to him if he saw you naked. He might explode.”

 

“Blackwall would knock.”

 

“Well, that’s no fun.”

 

In the end, Maxwell made off with an extra tunic, leggings and underclothes, as well as her daggers and sheaths, and the most basic hygiene supplies. And her phone. He demanded she bring that.

 

“What  _ is  _ that?” He’d asked as she was putting it away.

 

“A phone?”

 

He gave her a withering look in response.

 

She turned it back and put on some music, handed it to him. Maxwell turned it over in his hands, eyes wide. “How is it doing that?”

 

“Oh jeez, Max. That’s like asking a dwarf how magic works.”

 

“Oh, I am definitely going to tell Varric that one.”

 

“Shut up. That’s not what I meant. It’s like, I sort of know but don’t  _ really  _ get it. Like, I can tell you that I have songs stored in there as little bits of information and the box knows how to read that information and make the music.”

 

“How much do you have in there?”

 

“I think, like, 2000 songs?”

 

“We are bringing this.” Emma gave him an incredulous look. “For around the campfire, obviously.”

 

“I’m not sure you’ll like most of the music on here…”

 

He grinned at her. “Try me.”

 

\--

 

Of course Cullen was there. She had intended to simply get up, go to ‘bid farewell’ to Max and crew, and hop up on a horse as soon as no one who mattered was paying attention. That simple plan went out the window when Cullen started hovering.

 

He obviously suspected.

 

“You don’t usually see the Herald off, Curly.”

 

“I have a slow morning. I thought it would be nice to oversee things and wish everyone luck.” He was calm and his answer flowed from his lips smoothly.

 

“A slow morning and you’re still working? Some things never change, do they?”

 

“I suppose not.” Cullen lifted the corner of his mouth in a slight smirk, like he knew what Varric was doing. Emma was simply doing her best not to pace. 

 

“Certainly there are better things you could be doing with your time.” Maxwell was not subtle and his exasperated sigh seemed to roll right over the Commander.

 

“Not at all. This is a nice little ritual Emma has developed.” She scoffed, walked away a few feet and leaned against a tree.

 

“Is that an extra horse?”

 

Maxwell scowled. “We often bring an extra horse, Commander. You would know that if this wasn’t the first time you had come around.”

 

Emma saw Solas lean over and whisper something in Varric’s ear. 

 

“Well, you’d better get going then. You’re losing daylight at this rate.”

 

“Just a moment. I apologise. It seems I still have something to take care of.” Solas dismounted and disappeared.

 

“Might be awhile yet.” Maxwell looked at Cullen pointedly.

 

“I can wait.” Emma was half-waiting for them to just whip ‘em out and start measuring.

 

When Solas reappeared, he moved towards Emma rather than the horses. He strode directly up to where Emma was leaning impatiently, trying to figure out a new plan. He stopped in front of her and placed a hand on each of her hips. Her eyes widened and her heartbeat sped up.  _ What is he doing?  _ She was about to gather herself enough to ask but he leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Tell me when he is no longer looking.”

 

He was looking. He looked angry. He looked like he was about to come over.

 

Varric said something. She couldn’t hear what over the rushing noise in her own head from having the Dread Wolf so close. Whatever it was, it drew Cullen’s attention. He turned around, moving towards Varric. “Now,” she whispered. She felt his grip tug her. Solas’ hands were firm on her hips. Another tug. She was dizzy. She was next to the lake outside Haven.

 

“We’ll retrieve you from here shortly.” Solas inclined his head towards her, and then he was gone.  _ Fade Step. _

 

Emma vomited. 

 

\--

 

They picked her up less than fifteen minutes later. As soon as they came into view, Krem began laughing. “I thought you were either the worst organized Inquisition, or all mad- I should have guessed you were up to something!”

 

Blackwall hoisted her onto her horse, helped with the straps, and they were off at a quick pace.  “If we’re too far by the time they figure out that you’ve come along, they’ll hopefully let it be.”

 

Emma looked at him in surprise. “Do you really think they’ll come chasing after me?” She looked at Maxwell.

 

“The Commander might,” he laughed. “Did you see the way he was watching? What have you been getting up to in my absence that he was so sure you were going to try and pull something?”

 

Emma smiled. “Just your all ‘round standard willful impulsivity.”

 

“That’s my girl.”

 

Varric shook his head.

 

“Oh, come on Varric. Don’t be like that.”

 

“Just promise now that you’re out here, you  _ won’t _ be impulsive.”

 

“I’m surrounded by trained fighters, what could possibly go wrong?”

 

Varric groaned. “You had to go and say that, didn’t you Visions?”

 

Maxwell laughed. “She’ll be fine Varric. Relax. You agreed to this after all.”

 

They rode in formation. Krem and Maxwell led the way, while Varric and Blackwall brought up the rear. That meant Emma was riding next to Solas, nervously. She worried her bottom lip, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t lead to a conversation in which she would reveal anything she shouldn’t. He seemed content enough to ride in silence.

 

“Thank you,” she finally blurted out.

 

He looked at her with curiosity. “For what?”

 

“For getting me out here. You didn’t have to do that.”

 

Solas shrugged. “I agreed to aid you in your goal.”

 

“Still.” That couldn’t be the end of the conversation, she couldn’t avoid Solas forever. She needed him to trust her, and give up digging through her brain. Perhaps if she could get him talking. “Solas?”

 

He said nothing but threw her a sideways glance to show he was listening.

 

“Would you tell me about the fade?” 

 

She heard Varric snort behind her. “Try getting him not to, that’s the trick.”

 

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Surely someone who dreams the future knows all about the fade.”

 

Emma shook her head. “It’s not the same for me. I don’t… you called me a traveller. I’m not. I don’t wander the fade exploring and looking for things. I just… sometimes I see things and then they come true. That’s all there is to it.”  _ Hopefully that’s believable.  _

 

“Sometimes we forget the journey and only recall the destination. We still travel.”

 

“Can you tell me then? About your travels?”

 

He did. He wove images with his words, keeping Emma entertained, and from having to offer more than acknowledgement and prompting questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She smiled. “I know your boss is Ben-Hassrath.”
> 
> Krem’s expression moved from shocked to suspicious in a blink. “Then why are we meeting him? I won’t be part of an ambush.” He began to get up.


	31. Traveling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> Blackwall hoisted her onto her horse, helped with the straps, and they were off at a quick pace. “If we’re too far by the time they figure out that you’ve come along, they’ll hopefully let it be.”
> 
> Emma looked at him in surprise. “Do you really think they’ll come chasing after me?” She looked at Maxwell.

Emma’s ass had never been so sore. Just when she thought she might cry if they went on much longer, Maxwell called to make camp. Frustratingly, everyone moved to get things done with a familiarity and order born from experience. “How can I help?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Maxwell tossed at her as he began setting up tents. Solas was building a fire. Varric was getting food ready. Blackwall was unsaddling the horses. Even Krem was supporting each in their tasks, inherently knowing where an extra hand was needed.

 

“I want to worry about it, as it happens.” 

 

Blackwall tossed her a brush with an entertained snort. “You asked for it, my lady, you can brush down the horses.”

 

She didn’t really know how but she started with the first unsaddled horse. How hard could it be to brush a horse? As it turns out, not hard, but time consuming. She’s still at it when dinner was ready. She finished up and plunked down in front of the campfire. Maxwell offered her a bowl, and quickly pulled it back when she reached for it gratefully. “Do the music thing.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes and pulled the phone out of her horse’s saddlebag. “What do you want?” Then she immediately started laughing at herself.  _ Old habits die hard.  _ “Nevermind. Obviously you have no idea.”

 

She scrolled through her music list, searching for something that wouldn’t be too ‘out there’ for present company and trying ignore the confused looks of Varric, Krem, and Blackwall as they leaned in to see what she was doing.

 

When she found it, she felt a little wave of melancholy. Giving in, she hit play and the little phone rang out.

 

_ To all of you _

_ American girls, it’s sad to _

_ imagine a world without you _

 

She closed her eyes, listening despite the intense stares she could feel on her skin. They stayed silent until the end.

 

_ I cry sometimes walking around my own place _

_ Wondering why she cries sometimes _

_ Talking about her own place _

_ Somewhere around the mountains _

_ No one could dry her fountain _

_ Till she got tired to complain _

_ That's when I fly to the wildland, to your land _

 

She opened her eyes just in time to see Varric reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder.  _ Oh, I’m crying. _ She hurriedly brushed away the tears that had made their way down her cheeks. Maxwell pulled her head in and placed a kiss on her forehead.

 

“I’m sorry to be insensitive but, what is going on? What is that thing?” Krem looked completely horrified.

 

Blackwall chucked. “Meet our resident seer from a far away land. She’s apparently full of surprises and strange toys.”

 

“You’re the prophet?”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“Oh Maker.” Krem brushed a hand through his hair. “You’re the prophet. Can I ask then?”

 

“Ask what?”

 

“I’m not sure. I guess, what kinds of things do you know?”

 

She smiled. “I know your boss is Ben-Hassrath.”

 

Krem’s expression moved from shocked to suspicious in a blink. “Then why are we meeting him? I won’t be part of an ambush.” He began to get up.

 

Maxwell reached out and tugged his arm downwards. “Stay put. You really think we’d head all the way out to the bloody Storm Coast for an ambush? We’d obviously imprison you and lure your friends to us.”

 

“Good luck taking on The Iron Bull.” His words were almost a challenge, his suspicions not quite placated.

 

“I also know he’s a good fighter. He’s honest and he keeps his word. He’s a good man.” Krem was silent, listening. Emma shrugged. “I like him.”

 

“What do you mean  _ you like him _ ? You’ve never met.” Varric looked at her quizzically.

 

Emma opened her mouth, found herself without words, closed it again. Thought. “Do you remember when we first met?”

 

“Sure. You already knew who I was but that’s not-”

 

“And I was so happy to see you. We’d never met but I knew you. I was comfortable with you. I felt like you were a friend. I feel kind of like that about Bull. I know it’s weird.”

 

“Okay Visions. I think I get it. I remember what you were like well enough.”

 

“But the important question is how you felt about me.” Maxwell waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

“Oh my. I honestly didn’t even know. You were too handsome.” She shook her head in feigned disbelief. “It was completely distracting.”

 

He grinned at her. “I thought as much. My good looks have thrown people off before.”

 

Blackwall nearly choked on his food.

 

Solas caught her eye from across the campfire. “What are American girls?”

 

“Girls from America. America is a country.” She shifted uncomfortably, but Solas had no more questions. “Can I have my stew now?”

 

“Is America your home country?” Maxwell handed her food. 

 

“No, but I lived there for awhile. I miss it almost as much as home.” He nodded and let her eat in silence.

 

\--

 

It took until Emma moved to crawl into bed for her to realize that there were only three tents. “Really Max? You’re so desperate for my company that you didn’t bring me my own tent?”

 

He faked a hurt face. “I wouldn’t have to pull these tricks if you didn’t insist on denying me your warm embrace. But also I’ll be bunking with our guest until we get to know him better.” Krem shifted uncomfortably.

 

“I could bunk with Krem. I trust him.”

 

Maxwell shook his head. “No arguments on this one. You’ll be bunking with Blackwall. He can protect you if anything happens in the night.”

 

Tired and sore, Emma crawled awkwardly into the tent and flopped onto her bedroll with a grunt. Blackwall chuckled as he followed her in. “Not used to horse riding?”

 

“How could you tell?” She grumbled, wiggling out of her outer layers.

 

“For starters, your form is terrible.”

 

“You could have mentioned.”

 

He smiled at her wickedly. “You’re too stubborn. You would have griped about your way being more comfortable and done it anyways. You’re the type who needs to learn things the hard way.”

 

She glared at him.

 

He shrugged.

 

“I’m right though... You could get Solas to run a little healing magic over your back.” He added. Blackwall pulled off his shirt. He was built solid. Hard. Hairy, except for a scar that ran vertically down his right peck and onto his stomach. Emma stared.

 

“How did you get that?”

 

“Axe. Wasn’t wearing armour. It was stupid.”

 

“You survived an axe to the chest without armour?”

 

He shrugged again. “Healer was fast.”

 

Emma nodded slowly. “Maybe I’ll not complain about being sore from horse riding then. You know, considering the shit present company has had to deal with.”

 

He looked at her like she was stupid. “Don’t hide your pain out here. We’re a team and we need to know how everyone is doing so we can trust each other.”

 

She swallowed. Nodded. “Okay, Blackwall.” She pulled off her own shirt, only her breastband remaining. This time Blackwall was staring, but it held a different feeling than the one she had given him. “What?” She teased. “You get to be comfy but I have wear the same tunic day and night for the sake of propriety or something?”

 

“You will be the death of me, woman,” he huffed as stretched himself out over his bedroll.

 

“Should have found a pretty tavern girl to spend the night with before we left. You’d probably be able to handle little-ol’-me without a shirt, no problem.”

 

“Maker’s balls. You’re not even drunk and you think that.” Emma looked at him quizzically, unsure what he was getting at. “Do you really think I would do that?” He pressed. “Take advantage of a woman? Introduce myself as a Warden, bed her, and then what? There is no future for me with any woman as long as my life is a lie.”

 

She remembered. She had romanced Blackwall once. She remembered how he pushed the Inquisitor away. How he kept trying to tell her but never could until it all unravelled. It was sad, not just an interesting plot twist, now that she truly knew him. “So what is your plan then? To just never be with a woman again?”

 

“If that is the punishment for my past, then I will bear it happily.” He rolled away from her then, signalling the end of the conversation. Emma lay awake for a long while, staring at the back of his head, and thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Everyone was a little quiet. The weather was wearing them all down. Maxwell wasn’t even complaining like he had promised he would. Beside her, Solas’s ears twitched. “A battle,” he said simply.


	32. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet: “I’m surrounded by trained fighters, what could possibly go wrong?”
> 
> Varric groaned. “You had to go and say that, didn’t you Visions?”
> 
>  
> 
> And now: That question is answered.

The next morning, Blackwall was already up and out of the tent. Emma furrowed her brows, concerned she had properly angered him - or worse, hurt him. She began to get dressed and hauled herself out of the tent to an already active camp.

 

“You didn’t need to let me sleep in.”

 

“You needed the recovery.” Blackwall handed her a bowl of porridge and when she looked up, he smiled at her. It seemed they were okay.

 

She sat, wincing when she made contact with the downed log that served as her bench, and began to eat. She was surprised when Solas sat beside her and she realized in that moment that, despite their proximity, he hadn’t sought her out in the Fade last night.  _ Maybe sucking up to him did the trick. _

 

“I can help you.” He broke the silence as she was finishing her last bites.

 

She responded inelegantly. “Huh?”

 

“You are in pain, and it will be a long day. I can help.”

 

“Oh, umm… you don’t have to. Don’t you mages have to conserve mana?”

 

Solas smiled in a way that was neither prideful, nor overly friendly. It just was. “I can spare this.” Emma nodded and felt Solas’s hand, light on her neck. A warm tingle slowly spread into her and she closed her eyes, sighing in pleasure. He ran his hand slowly down her spine, pausing every couple of inches to pour healing magic into her muscles. His hand hovered slightly above her tailbone. “I need to keep going,” he said simply. Emma nodded her agreement.

 

“What is it you were saying about intimacy?” Maxwell laughed as he looked over from where he was tearing down a tent, winking to make sure she recognized that he was referencing their previous conversation about Solas. It was unnecessary, she remembered. She leaned forward and stuck her tongue out at him.

 

Solas grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. She was surprised at how much strength he held. “I am nearly finished.” She held still as he continued, his hands trailing over her hips. “I spoke to a friend of mine last night,” he commented as he pulled away from her.

 

“Hm.” She rose to begin properly getting herself ready for the road before a reaction properly settled on her.  _ Was that what he was doing last night? Why he wasn’t in her dreams?  _ “Was it Wisdom?” Solas gave her the gift of looking genuinely surprised. 

 

“They had not heard of this place you are from, America.” He didn’t answer the question.

 

Emma nodded slowly, unsure if she was surprised or not. Why would they have- But if a spirit has no knowledge of her world then how did she arrive here from a rift in the Fade?

 

“You thought this would be the case.”

 

“I wasn’t sure what to expect, honestly.”

 

“You must have had some thought about that.”

 

“Andraste’s tits! Have you not learned since our talk?” Maxwell snapped.

 

“Stop interrogating her, Chuckles.”

 

Solas became quiet. Emma was quiet. Awkwardness was the loudest presence. At that moment, Blackwall came back from the horses, carrying a shapeless bundle. “Borrowed a couple things for you,” he said as he handed them over. A leather chestpiece and gauntlets were handed over. “They won’t protect you from an axe to the chest so don’t go getting any ideas about that.” He was gruff and ineloquent in his delivery but his self-degradation made Emma smile. “Should slow an arrow or divert a graze though.”

 

Emma put the chestpiece over her tunic, pulled out and strapped on the sheathes for her daggers, put the daggers in place. She couldn’t do the greaves up with one hand, so Blackwall helped her tie them up, nodded approvingly.

 

“You look almost like a fighter, Visions.” Varric clapped her lightly on the back.

 

Maxwell held her at arm’s length running his eyes up and down her form. “You look ravishing, darling Emma.” 

 

“It’s meant to be practical, not sexy!” She laughed and slapped him across the shoulder.

 

\--

 

The Storm Coast was wet. She knew it would be but the misery of it remained. Her tunic was wet, her leggings were wet. Her horse was wet. Her braid dripped large drops in a line down her back. She missed Gore-tex. 

 

Everyone was a little quiet. The weather was wearing them all down. Maxwell wasn’t even complaining like he had promised he would. Beside her, Solas’s ears twitched. “A battle,” he said simply.

 

Maxwell and Krem spurred their horses faster in unison and the rest followed. Emma was pleased that her horse followed. It seemed to pretty well do as the group did. She never had to direct it much.

 

As they crested over the hill, Emma could see the signs of fighting down on the beach. It was louder than she expected. The clang of metal was overwhelming even from this distance. The Iron Bull was easily visible, swinging a giant maul around and generally towering over the action. Krem was already barreling down the slope, weapon drawn. Maxwell hopped off his own horse, unslinging his bow as he moved. “Emma, tie up the horses!”

 

“Stay here,” Blackwall growled.

 

“Keep an eye out for trouble.” Varric shot one last concerned look at her, and everyone was gone.

 

Emma dismounted herself and began looping reigns around a tree branch, calming the beasts who were in no mood for a battle after a long day off slogging through rain and mud. 

 

She was slowly stroking Varric’s horse when she felt a heavy thud against her shoulder. It pushed her backwards a step before she could recover her stability. Looking down, she saw an arrow buried most of the way through the soft part of her shoulder, just beside the edge of the leather covering her chest. She blinked.  _ It doesn’t hurt. Shouldn’t it hurt?  _ The arrow sat there.  _ What do I do?  _ She felt another thud, this time against her ribs. It knocked the wind completely out of her and she clawed at her chest, willing her brain to remember how to breathe. Things began to get a little blurry and Emma could feel herself swaying on her feet.  _ What do I do?  _ She looked at the tree she was tying the horses to and dropped behind its broad trunk, raggedly pulling in a piece of breath. She didn’t know what to do.

 

She sat there for what felt like an eternity before thundering footfalls came running towards her. “Emma, Emma are you okay?” Maxwell’s face was in front of her, brows knit, hand resting on her cheek.

 

“Somebody shot me.” She pointed to the arrow in her shoulder to emphasize her point. “Wasn’t even in the fight- S’embarrassing. I’ve never been shot before.” She felt like she were watching herself speak from somewhere else and wondered if this was what dissociating felt like. “It’s starting to hurt.”

 

“Shit, Emma. I should have seen it- We didn’t even realize you had been hurt.” Emma tried to remember if Varric had ever said her name before.

 

“I’m okay, Varric. It’s just a flesh wound.” She snorted and then giggled at her reference, her ragged breath and shaking shoulders becoming harbingers of the pain she should have felt before from both arrows.

 

“Move,” a quiet voice commanded. Solas was in front of her then, pressing his fingers around the arrow in her ribs. She hissed in pain, squeezing her face shut. “I’m going to help you lie down. I can heal this but we’ll need to pull the arrow out first. Do you understand?” Emma nodded weakly and didn’t like the look Solas gave her that said she didn’t understand. He helped support her to the ground and she was surprised again at how strong he was, thinking wryly that she probably shouldn’t be.  _ He is, after all, practically a god.  _

 

Blackwall appeared at the top of her vision, crouching down at her head. “Open your mouth,” He directed. Emma gave him a puzzled look but complied, expecting a potion. Instead, he put a strip of leather between her teeth.

 

“Kinky.” She grinned up at him, giggling again, but he didn’t laugh. He and Solas exchanged looks and he put his hands on each of her shoulders, carefully avoiding the arrow wedged in the left one. Maxwell leaned over her and pressed down on her thighs. Emma’s slow brain caught up and she closed her eyes in a form of denial.

 

“This is going to hurt.” Solas’s warning was an understatement. Emma screamed and threw a hand up onto Blackwall’s forearm, gripping it harder than she knew she could. She bit down on the leather and it didn’t help. Then, a familiar, warm tingle replaced the pain. Tendrils of pleasure wove their way through her stomach and she moaned in relief.

 

“Hang on Visions. You’re not done yet.” Varric’s disembodied voice snaked through her awareness. She gripped Blackwall’s arm harder but he didn’t flinch. He held still for her and held her still as Solas yarded on the arrow in her shoulder. Emma could feel sweat running down the side of her face as she tried not to scream again. When the healing magic seeped into her shoulder, she thought she might pass out from relief. It was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> “You’re pretty tough for a fortune telling tag-along who’s never fought before.” An amused, rumbling voice made her smile.
> 
> “Hi Bull,” she murmured, knowing exactly whose voice it was. “Think you could get me a drink? Like, a strong one?”


	33. Chargers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She sat there for what felt like an eternity before thundering footfalls came running towards her. “Emma, Emma are you okay?” Maxwell’s face was in front of her, brows knit, hand resting on her cheek.
> 
> “Somebody shot me.” She pointed to the arrow in her shoulder to emphasize her point. “Wasn’t even in the fight- S’embarrassing. I’ve never been shot before.”

“You’re pretty tough for a fortune telling tag-along who’s never fought before.” An amused, rumbling voice made her smile.

 

“Hi Bull,” she murmured, knowing exactly whose voice it was. “Think you could get me a drink? Like, a strong one?”

 

He laughed. “I think I’m going to like you.”

 

“Your body still needs to heal. My magic can only take you some of the way. Alcohol would not be the wisest course.”

 

Emma groaned. “You’re no fun, doc.” Solas raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure if it was admonishment for her attitude or questioning of the term ‘doc’.

 

“He’s right though.” Blackwall helped support her into an upright position. “Especially given your tendency to go overboard.”

 

“You could have died, Visions.”

 

“What? No, I am fine. Look.”

 

“The armour stopped the arrow from going too deep, but a little further and it would have punctured your lung.”

 

“Just one.” Emma listened to herself protesting and she wasn’t completely sure why she was doing it. She only knew that her friends were worried and she didn’t like it. “Got a whole other one.”

 

“Emma…” Varric was using her name again. She shifted uncomfortably, not liking it. “This is serious. We could have lost you and we didn’t even bring you into the fight. You can’t be so cavalier about this. You need to be careful.” She scanned around for Maxwell, hoping he would make a joke and change the mood. He was setting up camp and not looking at her.

 

“Ah, give the girl a break. She’s just had her first battle injury - whether she was in it or not. Plenty of time to plan for safety after we celebrate!”

 

“I’m not sure you want to weigh in on this one, Chief.” Emma looked around and saw her crew looking generally skeptical and annoyed at Bull’s interjection.

 

“Bull, Krem,” she decided to change the conversation. “Why don’t you introduce me to the rest of the Chargers?” She was fairly certain she would know them all, but the opportunity to move past discussing her injuries was solid. The Chargers were setting up their own camp. It was right close by, but still separate somehow.

 

Bull grinned and sauntered ahead, assuming she was following. Krem held out an arm to assist her as she stiffly moved to follow. “I was hit in the shoulder and ribs, I think I can walk.”

 

“You ever had an arrow through the ribs before?” Krem raised his eyebrow at her. It was a rhetorical question. She rose and found she was so sore she could barely stand up straight.

 

“What’s even the point of healing magic,” she griped as she took the offered arm to lean on. Emma was surprise to see there were more Chargers than the ones she knew from the game. It made sense, she supposed. Others had been referenced and seven people is hardly a company.

 

“Prophet, this is Dalish.” The Iron Bull clapped the elf on the shoulder hard enough she had to use her staff as a brace to keep from flying forward.

 

“Nice to meet you Dalish.” Emma offered a shy smile. “That’s a lovely bow you have.”

 

Dalish laughed. “Good job, Krem.”

 

“It wasn’t me.” When she looked to Bull, he also shook his head.

 

“Oh, how fun. You’re the one that knows things. Do Grim.” Grim wasn’t looking at them, he was busy helping out.

 

“How? Am I supposed to just grunt at you in imitation? Or repeat salacious rumours about his background as a prince or something?”

 

Dalish grinned wider. Bull grabbed a man who was kneeling over a pot and pushed him towards Emma. “This is Stitches.”

 

“Hi Stitches. I’m Emma.” She wasn’t sure if she should be trying to shake hands or anything as part of these introductions, but she was too busy gripping Krem’s shoulder and arm to stay upright. Dalish looked at her expectantly for words of insight.

 

It went like that. Bull leading her around and introducing people. Emma offering little tidbits of knowledge when she had them. After she had been introduced to everyone, Krem helped her down onto a stone and grabbed her some soup and jerky. 

 

When Bull handed her a tankard of ale, she hesitated. “Ah, don’t worry about what they said. You’ll heal just fine. Besides, need to cut loose after a close call like that.”

 

“You think so?” She took a drink, not waiting for the explanation. Whatever it was, it was strong and it burned its way down her throat and teased its way into her brain almost instantly. 

 

“Sure, first brush with battle - first time attacked - that can do things to a person if they don’t move on, embrace life.”

 

“I feel fine?”

 

Bull nodded. “It can sneak up on you. Don’t let it. You start to feel anything weird creeping up on you, you come let me know.”

 

She took another drink. “You don’t even know me.” 

 

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

 

“Trust the Chief. He means what he says.” 

 

Emma leaned her head onto Krem’s shoulder, her body tired from trying to heal. “So Bull,” she purred. “How would you help me to ‘cut loose’ and ‘embrace life’ then?” 

 

He didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I could give you what you need.”

 

Krem coughed uncomfortably and Emma ignored him. “Really? And just what do you think that I need?” She gave him a challenging grin.

 

Bull leaned in. “You need to take back control, feel powerful. Dominating The Iron Bull, that would do it.”

 

Emma laughed. “I’m not sure I could ever feel powerful around you.”

 

“I could make you feel like the Empress of fucking Orlais if you wanted.”

 

“Alright Chief. None of the rest of us want to picture it.”

 

“Eh, don’t panic Krem. She thinks she’s messing with me.” Emma laughed again. “Jokes on her though. Now she’ll be the one picturing it.” Bull grinned at her suggestively, before rising and heading towards his tent. 

 

“Emma.” She turned to see Maxwell waiting for her. He held out a hand and she let him help her back up and towards their own camp. When he stopped and faced her, holding both her hands in his, she shifted nervously. “I wanted to apologise. I didn’t think this all through- didn’t think about your safety at all. I only thought about the fun of having you along.”

 

“Please don’t be serious to me. I can’t handle it when you’re serious.”

 

Maxwell pulled her into an embrace, nestling his face down into the crook of her neck. “Leliana’s scouts have reported a number of rifts along the Coast that need to be closed. I can’t take you. I won’t risk it.” He was murmuring into her skin. “We’ll take you to see your dragon -from a distance, mind you- and then you’ll head back to Haven with the Chargers.”

 

Emma nodded. This wasn’t an argument worth having. “Good girl.” Maxwell’s voice was low, still full of regret.

 

She pulled away. “Now, stop worrying and feeling guilty and such. It distracts from your pretty face.” She earned a breathy exhale that was almost a laugh. It was a start. When Emma moved to go to bed, she realised there were only two tents now. She turned back to shoot Maxwell a puzzled look.

 

“Krem will be sleeping with the Chargers so only four of us sleeping at a time.” She still looked confused. “Watch rotation?” He prompted. 

 

“Oh!” She was genuinely surprised. “There wasn’t one last night... Or the night before”

 

“Of course there was.” He rolled his eyes at her. “We just didn’t tell you because we knew you’d insist on taking one.” Emma opened her mouth to protest. She shut it when she realised he was right, and she was about to do that exact thing but Maxwell cut her off. “You were injured today. You won’t take watch. You need your sleep to heal and will just drag us all down if you’re not feeling better in the morning.” He paused. “In fact, if you don’t sleep the whole night then we won’t bring you on your field trip to see a dragon in the morning.”

 

Emma grumbled a few words of complaint before crawling into the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Oh, is that the conversation you want to have? The one where we talk about things that are uncomfortable? Okay, let’s do it Mister I-am-living-under-a-dead-man’s-name. I would love to talk to you, Ser I-won’t-get-close-to-a-woman-because-I’m-punishing-myself.” She was hissing at him quietly, cognisant that tents don’t make good sound barriers.
> 
> Author's Note: Thanks again for reading! You are all wonderful and comments are, as always, appreciated. For example, do you like the preview note? Does it work for you?


	34. Cutting Loose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma leaned her head onto Krem’s shoulder, her body tired from trying to heal. “So Bull,” she purred. “How would you help me to ‘cut loose’ and ‘embrace life’ then?” 
> 
> He didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I could give you what you need.”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: I have known this chapter was coming for awhile and am terrified to post it. All I can say is that none of this is my fault. This is Emma's fault. Blame her. NSFW/Smut alert.

Blackwall crawled into the tent beside her and began undressing for bed. She thought he was going to let her be but after a few moments he asked. “How are you feeling?”

 

“A little sore but not too bad all considered.”

 

“It could have been worse. I apologize... I should have remained with you.”

 

“Oh, stop with the self-flagellation routine. It doesn’t suit you.” She snapped before taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Blackwall, I’m fine. I’m up and walking around. Why do I have to keep telling everyone that I’m okay?”

 

“Maybe because you’re the only one who doesn’t have enough sense to see how foolish it was for us to bring you out here after what happened today.”

 

“Can we stop? I’m done talking about this.”

 

“Sometimes we have to talk about things that are uncomfortable.”

 

“Oh, is  _ that  _ the conversation you want to have? The one where we talk about things that are uncomfortable? Okay, let’s do it Mister I-am-living-under-a-dead-man’s-name. I would love to talk to you, Ser I-won’t-get-close-to-a-woman-because-I’m-punishing-myself.” She was hissing at him quietly, cognisant that tents don’t make good sound barriers.

 

“How about we have the one about how you turn into a petulant child when things don’t go your way?”

 

“Fine, if you don’t want my company then I’ll go elsewhere.” She fully intended to leave the tent without much of a remaining plan but Blackwall grabbed her wrist, keeping her inside.

 

“This is what I’m talking about. You must stop behaving so recklessly.”

 

“You must stop telling me what to do,” she retorted. Annoyed and frustrated, she grabbed Blackwall around the neck and pulled him into her. His lips crashed against hers, and Blackwall grabbed her by the hips, reflexively digging his fingers into her flesh. She immediately shifted from angrily trying to control the situation to something warmer that sat low in her gut.

 

“This is a bad idea, my lady.” He growled into her mouth, at the same time moving a hand to the back of her head to hold her in place. A little shiver of excitement ran through her at being called that. It was annoying before but in this context it sent little sparks of pleasure directly to her core. 

 

Blackwall’s mouth was demanding as it moved against hers, insistent and hard. Emma let out a little whimper and he pulled away with a jerk. “I apologize-” She cut him off with another kiss, slightly softer but no less needy. She brushed her tongue against his lips asking for entrance as she dropped her hands from his neck and ran her fingernails across his chest.

 

“I need this,” she whispered. “I could have died today.” She wasn’t sure if she was finally being honest with herself or just using the words to get what she wanted. Iron Bull was right though, she needed to embrace life and take some control. Something had creeped up on her.

 

“This could ruin us.” His eyes darted over her body, uncertain. “You’re the only one who knows who I am. I don’t want to destroy our relationship because you went through something today.”

 

Emma leaned forward to kiss his shoulder. “Stop thinking you’re going to ruin everything you touch. You need to know that you deserve to have someone care about you as you, and not just as Blackwall.” She spoke into his shoulder, letting her lips move against his skin. “Let me show you that.” Emma reached down and gripped him through his breeches. He was already hard and she rubbed his length through his pants, breathing in his ear. “I need comfort and I need to be reminded that I’m alive. Please do this for me, Thom.”

 

At the utterance of his real name, his resistance broke. He lunged forward, capturing her mouth again and sliding rough hands under her tunic to grab at her, pulling her tight against him and groaning. “I would do anything for you, my lady.” He ran his hands upwards, taking her tunic with him, and she shivered at the scratch of calluses on her skin. As soon as she was free of her shirt, he wrapped an arm around her back and a hand supported her ass. He pressed kisses to her chest and lowered her to the bedroll. Hovering over top of her, he seemed impossibly broad and powerful.

 

Emma reached up, pulling at the laces on his breeches impatiently. As soon as they were loose enough, he shucked the pants into the corner of the tent and lowered himself on top of her. “This isn’t the most private location,” he murmured into her ear. “Think you can be quiet enough?” He didn’t wait for her answer, instead he began kissing his way down her neck, her collarbone, her chest, before he reached the edge of her breastband. He grabbed the edge of it with his teeth and tugged it down, then reached up and brushed his thumb across her nipple as he lowered his mouth to her other breast, kissing and nibbling at the newly exposed flesh. Emma gasped quietly at the feeling of his mouth on her and arched her back, pushing herself up against him. 

 

Blackwall dragged himself slowly down her body, one hand on either side of her waist, planting kisses along her stomach. The feeling of his beard was pleasantly scratchy as it foreshadowed the next location his lips would meet her skin. 

 

Hooking his fingers into her remaining clothing, he pulled her leggings and smalls downwards as Emma lifted her hips to make it easier. He gripped her leg, pulling it up towards his mouth and lining the inside of her calf with kisses and working his way up to her thighs and in between her legs. It felt electric when he pressed his tongue against her core, licking and sucking eagerly between her folds. Emma dropped her hands into his thick hair, the movement encouraging him directly over the bundle of nerves that most needed his attention. She couldn’t help but let out a whimpering pant as he circled it with his tongue. Blackwall stilled, waiting for her to quiet before slowly pushing a finger inside her. “You’re so wet.” He growled the words into her skin so low she could barely hear them as he began moving his finger in and out. “So ready for me,” he continued. He licked around her most sensitive area again, just avoiding it, watching her pant in pleasure and teasing her.

 

“Blackwall, please.” Emma whispered as she gripped his hair, using all her will not to push and pull him where she needed him.

 

“That’s not my name in this,” he chastised, slowing down the movement of his fingers. “No lies right now.”

 

“Thom.”

 

“Thom, what?” He grinned up at her wickedly.

 

“I need more, please. Please Thom.” He practically devoured her then. No longer teasing, he slipped another finger inside her, moving them in pace with his tongue and lips that he devoted solely to her clit. Emma felt the pleasure curling and building inside and fought the urge to thrust up against him. She dropped her hands from Blackwall’s head, gripping the bedding and curling her toes as shocks of pleasure rushed through her. She didn’t realize she was making noise until Blackwall’s hand clamped down on her mouth. 

 

He flopped down next to her with a self-satisfied grin. “You were supposed to be quiet,” he whispered.

 

“I guess it’s a skill I’ll have to work on,” she whispered back as she lifted herself up and straddled him, his cock pressing into her folds. She finally got a chance to look at him. It was thicker than she expected, heavy and insistent where it pulsed against her.

 

He looked slightly guilty. “You really don’t have to do this, my lady. I was happy just to help you feel better.”

 

“Someone told me that after being injured in a battle, it’s important to find a way to take back your power.” She grinned down at him. “What better way to do that than to make a battle-hardened warrior lose control underneath me?”

 

He groaned at her words and she pressed a finger to his lips. “Think  _ you _ can be quiet enough?” She teased.

 

“Woman, if you don’t stop talking to me like that I’m going to be finished before we even start.”

 

Emma reached down to stroke him, feather-light and teasing. He shuddered and gave her a look that could terrify a rage demon but only made Emma giggle. She leaned for forward, rubbing against his cock where it became trapped between them. “Turnabout is fair play, ser.” She whispered it into his ear and licked along the edge of it.

 

Blackwall let out a low growl and dug his fingers into her ass. Emma reached down and guided him to her entrance. Unable to hold himself still, he thrust up into her. Emma sat back up, with his length fully sheathed inside her, and put a halting palm against his chest. Blackwall stilled at her implied command, though she could tell it was a struggle. Slowly, Emma began rolling her hips, taking her time, controlling the game. Strong hands gripped her hips, felt the rock of their motion but didn’t try to take over again.

 

She watched Blackwall’s face. His eyes were closed and furrowed in concentration, all his awareness directed towards the feel of her moving on top of him and the fight against losing control. She enjoyed the heavy pant of his breathing. “Look at me,” she directed. He ignored her. “Look at me, Thom.” His eyes snapped open as his name did him in. With a deep grunt, he ground her tight against him as his hips thrust erratically into her and she felt the pulse of his cock spending inside her. She wasn’t sure she had ever been gripped that tight.

 

“Maker’s balls,” he groaned as his body relaxed underneath her. Emma grinned. She felt better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> He scanned his gaze over her companions and she had no doubt that he would figure it out but she was saved by a loud screeching noise. “Dragon!” Iron Bull jumped up, grabbing his sword and racing down the beach.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: I'm so sooorrrrrrrry. I promise, no relationship tag changes though. *hides behind couch*


	35. Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> “Someone told me that after being injured in a battle, it’s important to find a way to take back your power.” She grinned down at him. “What better way to do that than to make a battle-hardened warrior lose control underneath me?”

“We should talk about it.”

 

Emma sighed. “I suppose. You’re taking all the fun out of it though.”

 

“ _ All  _ the fun?” Blackwall chuckled. Emma rolled over, flopping onto her back.

 

“Okay, maybe not all of it.” She smiled.

 

There was silence for a few moments, each of them working up to what they wanted to say. “I know you flirted with me before this but I thought it was a game, fun, not that you wanted this- that you wanted me.”

 

“I- I didn’t,” she admitted. “I’m attracted to you but… I didn’t want anything.” She was trying to choose her words carefully, and failing utterly.

 

“Emma… Maker knows I’ve been tempted to try. I don’t have to keep secrets from you and… frankly you’re too enticing not to think about.” He took a deep breath and readied his confession. “I’m just too old to be chasing around impulsive and reckless girls. I wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

 

Emma laughed, long and loud. She heard Varric grumble something about her shutting up from the next tent. “While firmly rejecting the idea that you’re too old for me, or that I am a  _ girl _ ,” she whispered, “I’m completely relieved that you don’t want anything more. I like our friendship, Thom.”

 

Blackwall tensed. “Don’t call me that anymore, please. Not now it’s...”

 

Emma leaned up, concerned. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth formed a tight line. She moved to balance over top of him and leaned down to kiss him softly. She ran her thumb across his forehead, wiping away a bead of sweat that had pooled there. “I value our friendship very much, Blackwall. I don’t want to lose it.” She laid herself down, resting her head on his chest and playing absentmindedly with his chest hair. “I just… I needed to feel something good.”

 

He relaxed and moved a hand into her hair, lightly pulling at tresses. “I hope I was able to serve in that regard.”

 

“Are you fishing for compliments, Ser Warden?”

 

He chuckled. “No. No. I only wanted to ensure you got what you needed. Maker knows I did.”

 

“Are you sure? It feels like I was using you... I didn’t want it to be like that.”

 

“When you said I needed someone to care for me, you were right. I haven’t lain with a woman without paying for the pleasure since before I took this name.”

 

Emma could feel the heaviness in his voice and wanted - needed - to make sure they left things light and friendly. “If I’d known I was following professionals, I’d have worked a little harder. You told me it had been awhile.” She poked his chest to emphasize her teasing. “I didn’t realize I had talented competition from recent history.”

 

“Oh, trust me. This was better. I enjoyed this very much.”

 

\--

 

Emma had put her smalls back on and retreated to her own bedroll when watch shifted. Still, almost as soon as Maxwell crawled into the tent beside her, he knew. “You scandalous tart!” He whispered at her. “You had sex…  _ with Blackwall. _ ” Emma hid her face in her pillow, feeling the heat of embarrassment at his teasing. “How could you even find his cock under all that stoicism… and all that  _ hair _ .” 

 

“Shu’up.” She let out her muffled protest from in the pillow.

 

Never one for hangups, Maxwell crawled into her bedroll with her. He wrapped himself around her, burying his face in her hair. “You  _ smell  _ like him,” he teased. “Do you love him now?”

 

Emma snorted. “No. It wasn’t like that. It was just… He was there. I just needed him after what happened.”

 

“Are you okay?” He pulled her in closer. 

 

She nodded, silent.

 

“Alright sweet girl. Go to sleep now.” He kissed her head and she fell asleep in his arms.

 

\--

 

The morning brought multiple miracles. The first was that neither Varric or Solas appeared to suspect anything. The second was that Maxwell didn’t immediately announce everything. The third was that Blackwall treated her like everything was normal. 

 

Emma’s relief didn’t last long.

 

“Took my advice. Good for you.” Iron Bull sat down beside her while she ate, his own breakfast in hand.  _ Of course he would know.  _ Emma didn’t respond. “So who helped you work those feelings out?” He scanned his gaze over her companions and she had no doubt that he would figure it out but she was saved by a loud screeching noise. “Dragon!” Iron Bull jumped up, grabbing his sword and racing down the beach.

 

Emma hopped up as well, running to get her phone. There was no way she wasn’t getting a picture of this. She was surprised to see that her own crew was waiting for her, not willing to risk leaving her alone again, but then they were off as a group in the direction of the noise.

 

They caught up to the Chargers quickly. The crew had stopped and were simply watching the spectacle as a stony grey dragon shot sparking tendrils of electricity at an extremely angry giant. Light reflected of its scales where rainwater sat and every beat of its wings sent a spray of light outwards. Emma noticed a large boulder that would give her a better view. “Bull.” She grabbed his forearm and pointed to it. “Help me up?” He’d grabbed her by the hips and hoisted her up nearly before she could finish her request. She heard him clamber up behind her as she settled and pulled out her phone.

 

The noise of the dragon was like nothing Emma had ever heard before. Now she was sitting still, exposed, high up on a rock, it tore through her very core. Her heart was beating so fast she was trembling. Still, she managed to still herself enough to take pictures. This was something she wanted to see again. Bull laughed when the dragon attacked with a claw, getting close enough for a club to the head in retaliation. His jovial excitement made her feel a little braver, a little safer.

 

“You didn’t want to get in on the action?” She was curious. The Iron Bull she remembered loved killing dragons.

 

“The new Boss didn’t want us to.” 

 

“What a killjoy,” she laughed.

 

“Right?” He paused. “So, a woman falls out of a hole in reality who can see the future.” He didn’t take his eyes off the scene in front of them for a second.

 

“Yup.”

 

“And you knew I was Ben Hassrath.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“And you still came out here to hire us on.”

 

“Yup.” She smiled. 

 

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

 

She laughed. “Yup.” 

 

When the giant was finally downed, crushed and burnt against the rocky beach, Bull cheered. “Ah, yeah.” He grinned at her. “Makes you feel alive, watching something like that. Makes me want to kill something. Or fuck something.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

 

Emma threw both hands up in protest. “Don’t look at me.”

 

\--

 

It seemed that all separation between the two groups was eliminated. Everyone was chatting and enjoying the shared experience, joking and recounting their favourite moments. Packing up camp was joyful, until Emma remembered they weren’t all leaving together. She didn’t have a problem with it, exactly. She trusted and liked the Chargers. It just wasn’t the same as the comfort and protection she felt from the companions she had known in person for more than a day.

 

She looked at Maxwell forlornly. “I’ve said goodbye to you a bunch already but for some reason it feels different because I’m the one leaving.”

 

Maxwell laughed and pulled her into a hug. “That’s not why at all, precious girl.”

 

“Why then?”

 

“You know what it’s like out here now.”

 

_ Oh. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She sighed and smiled. She could hear birds and… something that sounded like crackling in the distance. It reminded her slightly of static electricity. What is that? Mages maybe? Machinery? At the same time Emma decided it was a bad idea, she followed the noise deeper into the trees to investigate.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Comments are love! (Also, I hope all y'all upset about the last chapter are feeling better after the talk?)


	36. Terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She looked at Maxwell forlornly. “I’ve said goodbye to you a bunch already but for some reason it feels different because I’m the one leaving.”
> 
> Maxwell laughed and pulled her into a hug. “That’s not why at all, precious girl.”
> 
> “Why then?”
> 
> “You know what it’s like out here now.”

 

Emma was whining. She knew she was whining but she couldn’t stop herself. She just didn’t realize how much slower moving on foot was than by horse. She was sore, tired, and in for twice the commitment to get back as it had taken to arrive. 

 

“I could just carry you, Kitten.”

 

“I don’t  _ want  _ you to carry me. I want to whine and receive commiseration and empathy in return.”

 

“Carrying you would be simpler.”

 

Emma stuck her tongue out in response to the side-eye the Qunari was giving her. “Wait, did you call me a kitten?”

 

“Sure did, Kitten.”

 

She glared at him. “Why?”

 

“You’re cute, tiny, weak, wobbly…” He was numbering her supposed kitten-like qualities on his fingers.

 

“I am not like a kitten!” 

 

“Bet you purr and mewl like a kitten too.”

 

“Okay Bull, what are you doing?”

 

“Not sure what you’re getting at.” His smirk told her that he knew exactly what she was getting at.

 

She stabbed a finger in his general direction. “You are Ben-Hassrath. You always have an ulterior motive.” She paused. “No. That’s not quite right. You always have a purpose to what you say. You don’t throw away your words. So I want to know what you’re doing.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I don’t know! I’m not inside your head.”

 

“Maybe you could sleep on it. See if a dream will tell you,” Krem chimed in.

 

Emma let out a frustrated groan and stalked ahead. Bull laughed.

 

\--

 

_ Emma stood over a great cliff. Her hair whipped around her and she felt the stick of sea spray clinging to her skin. Beside her and a little way off, a woman wept on her knees. _

 

_ “I asked them to show you something about goodbyes. I apologize, this wasn’t my intention.” _

 

_ “Did you ask a spirit of sorrow?” _

 

_ He chuckled softly. _

 

_ “I would have thought we were too far away to meet here.” _

 

_ “We are close enough. It simply took me longer to find you, shira’lan.” _

 

_ “All that work to show me a weeping woman. As if I didn’t know the sea could be a place of great tragedy.” _

 

_ “You are teasing me.” _

 

_ “Of course.” _

 

_ Solas was standing beside her now, staring out at the ocean. “How do your wounds feel?” _

 

_ “Barely feel them. My body is far too busy complaining about my feet to bother with them anymore.” _

 

_ He chuckled again. “I am glad to hear it. I wanted to ask before but… I have often felt more comfortable in the fade. My intentions are often clearer here.” _

 

_ “Clearer to yourself? Or to others?” _

 

_ “Perhaps both.” _

 

_ Emma sat down, dangling her legs over the edge of the cliff. “Does it ever make you think?” _

 

_ Solas shot her a questioning look, sitting down next to her. _

 

_ “The stone is so strong. It is stable, secure - feels like it will be around forever. The ocean is ever changing, temperamental and reactive. And yet, the ocean wins out in the end. Change is inevitable, the stone will be worn down. And the ocean, it cannot give the stone back what was taken no matter how it tries.” _

 

_ “Perhaps that is because the ocean does not wish to return the stone.” _

 

_ “You don’t think so? And yet it pushes tiny pebbles to the beach whenever it can. It returns uprooted trees to the shore. I think it does want that very much, but when it struggles its hardest to put things back the way they were… that is when it does the most damage.” _

 

_ “I sense that we are not really speaking of ocean and stone, shira’lan.” _

 

_ She looked at him appraisingly. “Perhaps not. I could be describing a number of things. War, religion, love… What were you speaking of Solas?” _

 

_ He was silent. _

 

She woke up.

 

\--

 

“Good morning, Kitten!”

 

Emma groaned. “You just wait until I come up with an embarrassing and diminutive nickname for you.”

 

Bull bared his teeth in a brassy grin. “I am not easily embarrassed.”

 

She flipped him the bird, fairly certain he would get the intention even if the symbol didn’t really translate. “I’m going to take a piss,” she announced and stomped into the woods.

 

She moved far away enough from camp to ensure she wasn’t heard or bothered. Afterwards, she leaned against a tree, eyes closed, enjoying the quiet. The Chargers were wonderful but they were never quiet. Dalish kept wanting her to predict things. Krem was bugging her to pull out her phone again. Bull was… being Bull. It had been two days and she already missed being able to be alone.

 

She sighed and smiled. She could hear birds and… something that sounded like crackling in the distance. It reminded her slightly of static electricity.  _ What is that? Mages maybe? Machinery? _ At the same time Emma decided it was a bad idea, she followed the noise deeper into the trees to investigate.

 

It was a rift. Because, of course it was a rift. 

 

_ Okay. Make note of location. Backtrack. Let Max know so he can close it later. _

 

The shadow spreading over her own told her she was fucked.

 

Emma quickly pulled out her daggers and sprinted forward, hoping to get behind a tree. She heard the shriek of the creature as it moved after, movements jerky and quick. She sprawled onto her front when sharp talons pierced through the back of her calf, holding her in place. She rolled onto her front, thrashing her daggers in front of her as she went and just barely nicking the thing across its strange face. It was a terror demon, all long limbs and angles, and it curled its claws into her leg. She could feel the muscles shredding and she reached forward to stab the limb stretching from her with a dagger. It let go and she shuffled backwards.

 

It ducked low and started clacking after her on all four limbs now.  _ I’m going to die,  _ was her thought as she shoved a dagger through its face. It hissed and made to pull back but she moved with it, holding onto the dagger and brought the other into its throat. And again. Holding on and stabbing into it. She barely registered its front limbs around her, trying to yank her off. She didn’t stop stabbing until those limbs flopped down, limp, and the creature was no longer pulling away. Had she screamed? She wasn’t sure.

 

It wasn’t the only demon there. Shades, with their strange floating movements made their way towards her. She was exhausted, shaking, and resolved to simply let them kill her when Bull charged in and sliced the nearest in two before rounding on the second. 

 

“I think I might need Stitches,” she said as he kneeled down next to her. She was scared to look at it herself but Bull’s steady, neutral face as he examined her leg was enough to worry her.

 

“Yup. Don’t want to risk moving you but I can’t leave you alone next to that thing either.” The open rift still threatened them from where it hung in the air. He paused and then tore her leggings off at the mid-thigh on the clawed leg, repurposing it as a tourniquet. “This is going to suck but I need you to stay awake with me. Need to make sure you don’t go into shock. You’re losing a lot of blood down there.”

 

Emma grunted in acknowledgement as he pulled her into his arms to carry back.

 

“Not good enough, Kitten. Need you to use your words. Show me you’re with me.”

 

“I liked it better when you were offering me alcohol.”

 

“You had magic to heal you on that one, plus arrows aren’t as dangerous as demons unless they hit something valuable.”

 

Emma blinked slowly, a sleepy haze settling over her mind.

 

“Emma,” Bull growled, reminding her back into alertness.

 

“I liked my shoulder.”

 

“Sure. But it’s not going to kill you, and you won’t bleed out from an arrow in the shoulder.”

 

“Am I going to bleed out?”

 

“No.”

 

“What d’you know? You’re Qunari. I’m a squishy human.”

 

He grunted. “I’ve killed enough squishy humans to know. Don’t argue. You sound disappointed.”

 

“Not disappointed,” she breathed. “I was ready though.”

 

“Nah. You weren’t. You were resigned. You weren’t ready.”

 

She thought about it. He was probably right. With everything she had been through, all the shit this world offered, all the anger and depression after losing John, she had never gone that deep. She still saw joy on the other side. Perhaps when the lows are so low, the highs need to compensate.

 

“Emma.” She had been silent, this time thinking rather than fading out.

 

“Aren’t we back at camp yet?”

 

“Real close. Just another minute. Keep talking.”

 

She took a deep exhausted breath against his chest. And then another just to check she wasn’t imagining things. “You smell different.”

 

He laughed. “Different from what?”

 

“From humans. You smell kind of musty- like clay. I like it.”

 

“You have clearly lost too much blood.”

 

“No, it’s true. Like everyone smells different but it’s a completely different palate. Humans smell more-” But he wasn’t listening anymore.

 

“Stitches!” He bellowed, the man still not in sight but likely close enough to hear. 

 

Sure enough, the healer was ready for her when they reached camp and pouring a potion down her throat. Everything became a blur and she was finally allowed to pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Cullen was standing near her head, frowning as he watched the healers work. He looked tired. He turned and returned her gaze, looking very much like he was holding back a lecture.
> 
> “Miss me?” She quipped. He dropped his eyes and said nothing.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Yes, he is finally back next chapter!


	37. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> “I think I might need Stitches,” she said as he kneeled down next to her. She was scared to look at it herself but Bull’s steady, neutral face as he examined her leg was enough to worry her.
> 
> “Yup. Don’t want to risk moving you but I can’t leave you alone next to that thing either.” The open rift still threatened them from where it hung in the air. He paused and then tore her leggings off at the mid-thigh on the clawed leg, repurposing it as a tourniquet. “This is going to suck but I need you to stay awake with me. Need to make sure you don’t go into shock. You’re losing a lot of blood down there.”

  
  


When she woke, she was faintly aware of movement and jostling. She blinked her eyes open to a shifting landscape, and that musky smell. “Guess I took you up on that offer after all. You aren’t tired of carrying me yet?” She mumbled, drowsy with drugging.

 

“You? You weigh as much as a kitten, Kitten.” He grinned down at her. 

 

“Can I walk?”

 

“Unfortunately not.” Stitches was speaking from somewhere behind her head. “I was able to bandage and stitch up your wound but the amount of damage was severe. We need to get you to a healer as soon as possible.”

 

“But you’re a healer.”

 

“A magical healer,” he responded stiffly.

 

“Oh... If I don’t get to one?” Her question was met with silence. She could practically feel her ears keening for reassurance. She swallowed, her throat stiff and thick. “Am I going to die?”

 

“Of course not.” He practically snapped at her. 

 

“You might not walk again though.” Dalish sounded despondent. “Wish I could do something to help.”

 

“Well, you are only an archer.” Her joke landed with a thud.

 

“We’re taking you back to Haven. It’s the closest place that will have someone who can help you.” She suddenly realized it was only the four of them, presumably making faster time than a large company with many supplies.

 

She was given another draught of potion and slowly wound her away into another sleep.

 

\--

 

“I will take her.”

 

“Not a chance. Point me to the healer’s tent.” It was Bull’s voice in her ears. She pulled her eyes open. Bull was following a familiar mass of red fur. 

 

“Hi,” she said to the back of his head. She received no response. “Cullen?”

 

“In here,” he was addressing Bull as he lifted the flap on the healer’s tent.

 

A flurry of chaos suddenly surrounded her. Bull was awkwardly trying to get out of the way after lowering her onto a cot, his size and height impeding him. Cullen was barking at the healers to attend her.

 

“S’just my leg,” she murmured. “It can wait.”

 

One of two women hovering over her leg tutted as she unwrapped bandages. “This is not promising,” she said in a strong Orlesian accent. “This is competent work but you should have gotten to us sooner, my lady.”

 

“Didn’t have much option.” She felt the familiar sensation of healing magic coursing through her leg. It felt sharper than Solas’s magic, a more intense tingle akin to her leg having fallen asleep. She wondered if that was a reflection of the extent of the damage or of Solas’s unique connection to the fade. 

 

Cullen was standing near her head, frowning as he watched the healers work. He looked tired. He turned and returned her gaze, looking very much like he was holding back a lecture.

 

“Miss me?” She quipped. He dropped his eyes and said nothing.

 

“That is all it can take for now. There is no imminent danger. With luck and care the leg will make a full recovery. Fern will apply a fresh salve and bandages and I will return in a few hours to apply more healing magic.” Emma nodded her understanding and then realized the woman was addressing Cullen.

 

“Okay, let’s have you leaning like this-” The other healer, Fern, was rolling Emma onto her side but stopped when she hissed in surprised pain as the woman grabbed her hip to position her. The healer frowned and pulled the top of her leggings down enough to get a look. Emma craned her neck to see, just as surprised that her hip had hurt. She hadn’t fallen on it. She saw small circular bruises covering the area in question.

 

Her confusion was eliminated when she saw the expression on Fern’s face. “My lady, will you be needing witherstalk?”  _ Oh.  _

 

“Please.” She swallowed her response but Fern heard her anyways. When she snuck a glance at Cullen, she couldn’t read the expression on his face. He was shifting and pacing by the time Fern returned with a vial of something. “It’s been a few days. Will it still work?” Emma asked as she took the offered drink.

 

“Should do, my lady. If you find you still have… a problem, come back. We have other ways of addressing the issue.” 

 

Emma nodded. “Thank you.”

 

Cullen stopped his shifting and pacing when Fern left. “I trust the man is dead.” He said the words with a gritted restraint. 

 

_ Oh, he thinks that…  _ “Of course not. It… it was Blackwall.” She stared down at her lap, surprised to find herself embarrassed.

 

“Then  _ I _ will kill him, the moment he returns.”

 

“What? No, Cullen. It was consensual. It was… I was hurting and he was there for me. That’s all. The bruising is… It was a moment.” She trailed off, not wanting to continue speaking about sex with another man to the one before her. He watched her as she spoke and she still couldn’t read his expression. She felt torn between awkwardly wanting to apologize for some reason and snapping at him. He was somehow making her feel guilty over her decision and they weren’t even close to together. She could feel the thoughts radiating from him, though he hadn’t said or done anything to give away his feelings on the matter. “You look like you’re judging me,” she said flatly.

 

“Of course not! Maker’s breath…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought someone hurt you. And you’re injured. I am… reeling.” He paused, considering. “I would not judge you for that. Maker knows I’ve tried to bury my own feelings through physical connection.” He grimaced, surprised at the words that spilled from him. 

 

“I can’t picture that,” she commented wryly.

 

“In Kirkwall…” He stopped and shook his head a little. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to put something behind me. There were women.”

 

“Did it help?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

 

“I… No.” He pressed his lips together in a tight line. “Perhaps if I had cared for them but I was not in a place for that. Travelling merchants, tavern girls, prostitutes- that was where I went searching. It did not help.”

 

“Oh.”

 

He looked at her then. “I hope what happened with Blackwall helps you, my lady.” He inclined his head and made to leave.

 

“Don’t do that.”

 

He stopped. “Don’t do what?”

 

“Don’t call me ‘my lady’ and leave like… I don’t like it. It feels wrong.”

 

He shifted awkwardly. “What would you like instead?”

 

“I want you to stay.”

 

He opened his mouth, closed it again and eventually said, “I have a great deal of work to do.” He turned to leave, halting as Cassandra entered.

 

“So it is true. You have returned.”

 

“Are you going to lecture me?” Emma was not teasing. She felt small and guilty in front of the Seeker. 

 

“No. I am not. It is obvious from your question that you already know why what you did was ill-advised and reckless. Not to mention cruel to those who count you as a friend and who were lied to.”

 

Emma realized then that she had hurt Cassandra’s feelings. The women were not close, but they had a comfortable relationship and Emma kind of liked how the Seeker watched out for her. “I am sorry Cassandra.”

 

She made a noise that indicated she was still upset. “Tell me what happened to you. We received no raven about this.”

 

Emma swallowed nervously. “I guess I kind of fought a terror demon?”

 

“Maker’s breath, Emma! I was teaching you to defend yourself, not training you to go after demons!”

 

Cassandra turned to him sharply. “You have been in here for so long and you did not yet know this? What could you possibly have felt was more important to discuss?” Cullen blushed lightly, but kept silent.

 

“I didn’t exactly intend to,” Emma muttered. “I stumbled across a rift and it attacked me. I kind of had to fight back or it would have killed me.”

 

“And where was the Herald?”

 

“This was after he sent me back with the Chargers. He didn’t want to take me any farther after I got hit by some arrows.” She heard Cullen groan softly as he pressed fingers to his forehead. “I was just taking a moment to do some private business when it happened. When I didn’t come back quickly enough, Bull came after me.”

 

“So the Herald does not know this has occurred?” Emma shook her head. She didn’t think so. Cassandra’s lip twitched slightly. “He will be informed with the sternest of corresponce. Cullen, we need to speak.” With those words she swept out of the tent and Cullen followed with a only brief look back at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Cullen frowned. “You shouldn’t have gone.”
> 
> “Cullen…” She sighed. 
> 
> “You should not have gone.” He repeated, firmer. “I was ready to throttle you for endangering yourself like that. But then, you came back and you were… I wish you had not left.” He slumped and looked away.


	38. Bored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Her confusion was eliminated when she saw the expression on Fern’s face. “My lady, will you be needing witherstalk?” Oh. 
> 
> “Please.” She swallowed her response but Fern heard her anyways. When she snuck a glance at Cullen, she couldn’t read the expression on his face. He was shifting and pacing by the time Fern returned with a vial of something.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: I'm not totally happy with this chapter but have it anyways, haha!

Josephine waltzed into the healer’s tent like a ray of sunshine. The healers suddenly had a bit more energy, the patients smiled. Her very presence seemed to remind them that there was a world outside the tent to return to. It probably didn’t hurt that she brought a jar of sugar drops which were promptly passed around. Emma idly wondered if she made these kinds of visits often.

 

“Emma, I was very happy to hear you had returned - and mostly in one piece. The Qunari, Iron Bull, informed us about what occurred. He is rather large, is he not? Even for a Qunari, I believe.” She chattered away amiably and Emma smiled, feeling calm for the first time since the demon. 

 

\--

 

Emma was becoming decidedly bored. The healers were too busy with other patients to speak with her. Her phone had apparently died at some point during the trip back to Haven and she didn’t have the charger with her. She was too restless to sleep. 

 

She was finger-combing her hair when she saw lithe movements in her peripheral vision. She looked up to see Sera peeking in from the entrance. Emma just looked, unsure what the elf wanted.

 

“You snuck off without telling anyone.”

 

Emma nodded.

 

“Whole place was in an uproar panicking about your prophety ass.” She quirked a slight grin. “Good prank, yeah?” And she was gone, leaving Emma with nothing but warm feelings about receiving her first smile from Sera. She could work on this.

 

\--

 

It was dark out. Only a few candles lit her end of the healer’s tent. The rest were positioned at the opposite end where the healers and Adan were positioned around a table and going over supplies. Emma was craning her ears, trying to overhear. This bed rest thing was really trying her patience. 

 

She was surprised when Cullen entered. He was dressed casually, just a loose shirt over his trousers and boots. “You came back... and the human version of you. Not the Commander version.” She smiled. “I mean, that is, if you’re here to see me at all.” She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear.

 

He quirked the corner of his mouth at her. “I am. I can visit some of the other patients if you’re busy, however.”

 

“Oh dear lord, no. Please. I’m so bored I could cry.”

 

“I thought you might have a hard time laying in bed all day. It’s so difficult to get into trouble from here.”

 

She gasped. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford! Are you  _ teasing  _ me? And while I’m injured, no less.”

 

He laughed, loudly, and received glares from the far end of the tent coupled with pointed looks towards the sleeping patients. He raised his hand in an apologetic acknowledgement. “You know my middle name?”

 

“Oh, umm… yeah.” Emma bit her lower lip, feeling self-conscious. “Sorry.” 

 

Cullen snorted. “No. It’s… fine. You’ve wielded your weapon in such a charming way, I could hardly be upset.”

 

She blushed.

 

“I also brought you these so you’d have something to do.” He held out her books from Varric. “Cassandra mentioned that you might want them. I went into your cabin. I hope that was alright.”

 

“That’s actually really thoughtful. Thank you Cullen.” She ran her hands lightly over the books as she took them. 

 

“Well, I guess I’ll just-”

 

“Stay for a bit?”

 

He chuckled softly. “Yes. That.” He cast his gaze over the room and Emma followed it. She realized all the chairs were being used by the working group at the end.

 

“Just come sit next to me. Or you can hover awkwardly,” she added as he hesitated.

 

He perched at the foot of the cot. “How does your leg feel?”

 

“Fine, but they won’t let me put weight on it for another day at least. Apparently we’re up to a fifty-fifty shot at me eventually walking without a limp, so that’s fun.”

 

Cullen frowned. “You shouldn’t have gone.”

 

“Cullen…” She sighed. 

 

“You should not have gone.” He repeated, firmer. “I was ready to throttle you for endangering yourself like that. But then, you came back and you were… I wish you had not left.” He slumped and looked away.

 

“I needed to. You don’t… you wouldn’t understand. You’re all strong and capable and stuff. I just needed to show myself that I could survive out there - that I didn’t have to be a victim. I guess I kind of failed.”

 

“You survived a terror demon. That would seem to be a success.” He said the words dryly, no sense of approval or pride coming from his lips.

 

“Yes. I somehow managed to kill a single demon.” She licked her lips, casting her gaze downwards. “In the end I still needed to be rescued though.”

 

“We will continue practicing. If you’d like that, that is.”

 

Emma nodded and an awkward silence settled in between them. She felt the impending announcement that he should leave again and grasped for anything to say before he spoke. “Would you like to read with me for a bit?”

 

“Oh. Forgive me, no. I spend all day staring at paperwork and it aggravates my headaches. I can leave you to your books, however.”

 

“I could read to you?”

 

He paused. “That would be nice.” He looked at his awkward seating choice and moved to sit on the ground next to the cot, closer to her head. He relaxed against the frame with a grunt.

 

Emma giggled. “I’d invite you in but it’s a little narrow for two people side-by-side.” She plucked the book on top. “How do you feel about Hard in Hightown?”

 

“I’m sure it’s completely inane drivel and I would love to hear you read it to me.”

 

“Fantastic.” She settled the book in her lap, grabbed a candle, and began reading-- trying to focus on the words and not watch to check if Cullen was comfortable, relaxed, entertained. On a whim, she slid a hand over and into his hair, softly stroking his scalp. He stiffened and she froze, thinking he might pull away, but then he leaned into it, closing his eyes with a soft hum of appreciation. She continued absentmindedly scratching as she read until the chapter was completed. When she pulled her hand away he whined a tiny bit, before swallowing it into a cough.

 

“Is that it?”

 

“For tonight. I can only read so long before my voice goes a bit hoarse and sore.”

 

“Maker… I’ll read if you just keep doing that to my head.”

 

“And aggravate your headache? I think not, Commander.” She grinned at him crookedly. “Besides, I’d just fall asleep.” Emma paused, the thought that Cullen probably didn’t receive much physical affection landing in her brain with a thud.

 

“Goodnight then, Emma.”

 

“Hm? Oh, yes. Goodnight. And thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For coming back. For not yelling at me. For the books. Just, all of it.”

 

\-- 

 

Krem came in the morning, having arrived late the previous evening with the rest of the Chargers and the supplies. “Good morning. The Chief sends his regards. He’s too scared to come in here himself.”

 

“The Iron Bull is scared of a healer’s tent?”

 

“Shirts too. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

 

Emma giggled. “Right. Fabric. Bane of horns and vice versa.” Krem smiled. “Honestly, Bull doesn’t seem much like the type to ‘send regards’. You sure you didn’t make that up?”

 

“Maybe those weren’t his exact words.”

 

“What were his exact words then?”

 

“Tell her I knew the Kitten had claws.”

 

She snorted. “Sure I do.”

 

Just then a couple of soldiers stumbled in, one supporting the other. One she didn’t recognize, the other’s face was a bloody mess but- “Rina?” The blood-soaked face rose and gurgled a laugh. A healer bustled over and grabbed the woman, dragging her to a nearby cot. The remaining soldier gave a quick salute and left. Krem watched the scene with a slight smirk.

 

“Mercenaries and soldiers - some things are the same.” Emma shot him a puzzled look. “You show off, sometimes you get fucked up.”

 

Rina reappeared, face bruised and a couple blood smears remaining but looking more or less fine. “You’re back,” she stated accusingly. “No one tells us anything.”

 

“A whole day now even. What happened to you?” 

 

“Shield to face.” Rina grinned, showing a missing tooth.

 

“Did you at least win?” Krem was grinning right along with her.

 

“Are Andraste’s buttcheeks dimpled?”

 

Emma looked back and forth between them. “Is that a yes?”

 

Rina turned back to her. “You left without saying. You could have told me.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Another grin. “You’re forgiven.”

 

“That was easy.”

 

A hand waved away the comment. “So when you getting out of here?”

 

“Maybe tomorrow. Honestly I could probably leave now but nobody trusts me not to push it too hard.”

 

They both chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

 

\--

 

Even with a few hours entertained by tales of the various hijinks of soldiers and mercenaries, Emma spent most of the day alone. Every few hours the healers checked her leg and pumped some more healing magic into her. Every time they affirmed that she wouldn’t be leaving until at least the morning.

 

She opened Varric’s book. Not Hard in Hightown, the other one. The one he didn’t write but loved. She was completely unsurprised to find it was a tale of a thief with a heart of gold who went on many adventures and generally used his ill-gotten goods to help people. She could imagine a young Varric reading the story and wanting to be just like its protagonist, just like many young people from Earth had grown up with stories of Robin Hood. 

 

It was night again and she was about halfway through, the book shoved underneath a candle she had balanced on a chair next to her cot, when Cullen returned. She hadn’t seen him yet and nearly fell out of the bed when he spoke from the shadows. “You continued without me?”

 

“Different book.” She waved it at him once she had composed herself.

 

“Ah. Good. I had hoped we could continue with another chapter.”

 

Emma smirked. “Should I tell Varric that you’re enjoying his book?”

 

“I’m enjoying the company.” He wasn’t laughing and Emma felt her insides twist. 

 

They took up their positions from the previous night, Cullen ignoring the chair that was serving as a candle-stand, and Emma made it about halfway through the chapter before he began snoring. It was so soft, she wasn’t sure she heard it at first but she leaned towards him and it was unmistakable. She touched him on the shoulder. “Cullen.” He didn’t respond. She squeezed lightly. “Cullen, wake up. You’ve fallen asleep.”

 

“Emma,” he mumbled softly before finally rousing himself. “Sorry. I… it’s been a long day.”

 

“Should have gone straight to sleep in the first place,” she teased as he pushed himself upright.

 

“I wanted to see you. To check on you, that is.”

 

“I’m doing fine. I promise. Being a good patient and everything.”

 

“Well, now I know you’re lying.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he poked her in the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

_ Promise? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> Emma would have skipped out of the healer’s tent, if she could. As it was, she was moving gingerly with the support of a walking stick. All told, she hadn’t used her leg muscles in five days and she was weak.
> 
> “Andraste’s flaming knickers, Visions! What happened to you?”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Other Note: I surpassed 200 kudos this weekend and I love you all SO much. For my first fanfic, this is going surprisingly well. I might post a second chapter later to say thank you but I'm quickly catching up to what I have written so it will depend on how writing goes today.


	39. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “I wanted to see you. To check on you, that is.”
> 
> “I’m doing fine. I promise. Being a good patient and everything.”
> 
> “Well, now I know you’re lying.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he poked her in the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Emma would have skipped out of the healer’s tent, if she could. As it was, she was moving gingerly with the support of a walking stick. All told, she hadn’t used her leg muscles in five days and she was weak.

 

“Andraste’s flaming knickers, Visions! What happened to you?”

 

Emma spun around. “Varric? You’re back already?”

 

“Just got back last night. Horses made good time. But seriously, what happened? We sent you back to protect you.” Varric appeared genuinely distressed. “Trevelyan is going to be furious. Chargers’ll be gone by afternoon.”  _ Apparently Cassandra never sent that letter. _

 

She shook her head. “Chargers saved me. I… wandered a bit far and ran into a rift.”

 

“Shit. Why did you do that?” Emma recoiled. She had never seen Varric look that angry. “You promised to stay out of trouble. We need you around.”

 

“No. You don’t,” she shrugged. Varric glowered at her. “Look, I started sharing things to save my butt and, you know, maybe I can do some good with that knowledge… but I’ve also seen enough to know that you will succeed without me. You don’t need me at all.”

 

“I am not talking about that. Maybe we can do things the old fashioned way with guesswork and mistakes. We need you because you are our friend and you are important to us. Not to mention the Herald adores you and it would break him if he got you hurt. We’re his family now - and you especially. Don’t do that to him, Visions.” Varric left as he finished his speech. Emma watched, dumbfounded. She hadn’t realized that Max felt that way about her, but the dwarf always did see more about people than others did.  _ He would make a good social worker.  _

 

\--

 

She felt like she had spent the majority of the day being lectured at. She had to endure the back-to-back lecture that occurred when Maxwell’s emotional chastising, replete with crushing hugs that were half relief and half anger, was interrupted by Cassandra who relished in the opportunity to scold them both at once. Blackwall also had a few choice words but she silenced him with a flirtatious quip about tongue-lashings and he gave up. Even Solas sought her out and suggested she behave more cautiously in the future before offering to look at her wounds. 

 

“It’s not necessary.”

 

“Nonsense. It is nothing.” He sat her down and pulled her leg into his lap.  _ Why is he being so nice?  _ Emma waited, nervously playing with her fingers. “You surprise me, shira’lan.”

 

She looked at him in confusion, but he was still examining her leg. She could sense the magic feeling its way through her flesh, exploring. He nodded in satisfaction. “It is healing well. I’m afraid the scars will never fully heal, your calf appears to have been quite shredded. The healers did decent work though and with time you will regain full ability. Did they look at your other wounds?”

 

“No.”

 

He tutted disapprovingly as he put her leg down and scooted closer. Emma felt nervous.  _ Why is he doing this?  _ He pulled her shirt to the side, exposing her shoulder to him. The same feeling entered as he explored the healing wound with his magic. “I admit you are a puzzle to me.” 

 

“I already know that Solas. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you intend to solve the mystery of my knowledge.”

 

“No. That is not- My meaning was not clear. You are impulsive, emotional, and reckless. I have seen many examples of this. Yet, you have shown you can be thoughtful, curious, and intelligent. I find myself surprised to see those dichotomies in you.”

 

“You’re surprised that I have multiple facets to my personality?”

 

Solas replaced the shoulder of her tunic and moved to her hem as though he were going to pull it up to get at her stomach wound. He stopped himself and went over her shirt. Emma nearly laughed at how little he considered her privacy. “When you state it in that manner it sounds silly.” He sounded as though he were pondering something. “What I mean to say is that I have found qualities in you that I did not expect. I have, in fact, been surprised by multiple people here.”

 

“Oh?” Solas pursed his lips and Emma felt the sensation of healing magic entering her. Evidently he found something he did not like. She tried not to giggle at the tingling. It tickled a bit.

 

Solas leaned back, finished. “The Herald is another. He puts on a show with his drinking and his jokes… but he listens to those around him and considers their input before he acts. It is a good quality. Lady Pentaghast has also been surprisingly accommodating, considering that I am an elven apostate and she is a former Seeker for the Order.”

 

Emma knew that these relationships did not change Solas’s mind in the game but she jumped on it anyways. He hadn’t expressed those types of sentiments so early in the game’s timeline and it might mean she had an opportunity to work on him that she hadn’t anticipated. She placed her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. He looked at her with mild curiosity. “Solas, there are people here worth knowing, worth learning more about. Give us a chance to show you our good qualities.”

 

Solas hummed noncommittally. “You are healing well.” He left. Emma watched his retreating form, concern churning through her mind as she tried to remind herself that she had time. One world-ending catastrophe at a time.

 

_ If only I had a lady Lavellan to tempt him with. _

 

\--

 

They had started bickering. Mages, Templars. It was finally time for this conversation. They’d been going on for a long while before Maxwell finally turned to her.

 

“Aren’t you going to weigh in?”

 

“Seems like there’s enough opinions to go around, honestly.”

 

“You are correct,” Josephine consented. “We have been arguing unnecessarily. It does us no credit if we are not working together towards a solution.”

 

Cassandra grunted her disagreement with the label ‘unnecessary’.

 

“It doesn’t matter who you bring in to help with the Breach. Either group can help to close it. Unfortunately, the group you leave behind is going to suffer.”

 

“Suffer how?” Maxwell’s voice was steady but Emma could see the hint of pleading behind his eyes.

 

“They will be used and corrupted and we will end up fighting them before this is all over. That’s all I can tell you.”

 

A heavy weight fell over the room. “I will speak with Fiona and see what she has to say before I make my decision.”

 

Emma nodded, wondering if this would somehow lock Maxwell into the path of working with the mages or if he would retain that choice. It would be hard to leave them to their fate once more was known.

 

\--

 

Emma was pacing. It was evening and she hadn’t actually seen Cullen outside of council that day. After Maxwell decided to meet with Fiona, Emma was dismissed. The day was spent making plans for his departure, again. Unsurprisingly, Emma wasn’t invited this time.

 

In a split-second decision, she grabbed Hard in Hightown and headed for Cullen’s tent. He was, unsurprisingly, bent over his desk and scribbling away. “Knock, knock?” She kept her voice soft, not wanting to startle him. She saw his expression shift before he looked up. He knew it was her.

 

“I was hoping I’d get a chance to properly see you after all.”

 

Emma felt her whole body tremble.  _ How is he so charming? _ “I tend to take things in my own hands when…” She trailed off, her voice shaky. He looked at her with a crooked smile. “I brought the book?” It sounded silly now and she felt exposed.

 

“Can you give me five minutes to finish this? Your offer is much preferred, but…” He gestured to the papers cluttering his desk.

 

Emma smirked. “Preferable to your boring paperwork? How flattering”

 

“I- Oh. That’s not what I…” It was his turn to blush and stammer until he saw her face. “You’re teasing me.”

 

“Of course.” She grinned and moved over to his desk as he resumed his work, smiling wryly at himself. She rested her walking stick against the tent wall behind her, eventually leaning on the desk next to Cullen as he worked. “What are you doing? Is it anything I can help with?”

 

He chuckled. “Just some tedious supply work. You don’t want anywhere near it.” 

 

“You’re almost certainly right about that.” She watched him scratching marks on paper for a few moments, considering how strangely isolated he looked. She was standing next to him and it seemed the whole world was just him and the mountains of work surrounding him. She mused on her thought from a few days ago- how little simple touch he must receive, hidden as he was behind title, behind armour, behind that air of professionalism he put forward in most actions. She reached out and stroked his head softly. He closed his eyes briefly, let out a little breath of pleasure.

 

She snorted as she wove her hand into his hair. “You Ferelden men are all just overgrown mabaris.”

 

“I’m going to go ahead and take that as a compliment.” He smiled into his paperwork.

 

“What?” She laughed. “How?”

 

He hummed under the gentle circles her fingers made on his scalp. “Strong, disciplined, good warriors. And they are simple to please. Scratches, food, love- they’re good. That’s all they need.”

 

“And that’s how you see yourself?”

 

“I wish it could be that simple.” He sighed and put down his quill. His hand moved between his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Headache?” She asked softly.

 

He grunted in response and she dropped her hand down to his neck, rubbed deep circles with her thumb and forefinger at the base of his skull. Cullen let out a low groan and dropped his head to give her better access. “Maker, what are you doing?”

 

“You have pressure points back here. Massaging them can help with tension headaches.”

 

“It’s amazing. Please, keep going.” She did, adding her other hand so she could attend to those points with her thumbs and rub his temples with her fingers. They remained in relative silence for a few minutes, only Cullen’s quiet noises of pleasure tempering it.

 

Emma leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “I believe I told you long ago to let me help you.”

 

“You’d tease me now?” He moaned.

 

“Of course.”

 

Cullen reached up and took her wrist, pulling her hand from his head. She shifted, leaning back against his desk. He looked up at her, considering. “You were right.”

 

Emma looked down at her wrist where he was drawing tight circles with his thumb. He followed her gaze. “Emma,” he said huskily. He didn’t release her.

 

She could feel her heart thudding rapidly. Was she holding her breath?  _ How does breathing even work?  _

 

Cullen sighed and dropped her wrist. “I should turn in.”

 

“What?”

 

“I am unwell. Perhaps we can put off reading until tomorrow?”

 

“I… sure.” Emma reached out and grabbed her walking stick and the book. “Good night, Cullen.”

 

“Good night. Oh, and Emma?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Training tomorrow afternoon.”

 

“Okay, Cullen.” She left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “I’m leaving the day after next.”
> 
> “Already? You just got back.”
> 
> He sighed. “I know. I swear, once this damned Breach is closed I’m going to throw a weeklong party and no one is allowed to be sober.” It made Emma a little sad to know that party wouldn’t happen for a long time yet. 
> 
> They were sitting together in the grass and Maxwell had laid his head in her lap while Emma played idly with his hair. “Do tell me what I need to know.”
> 
> \--
> 
> Once again, Cullen wasn’t waiting for her in their normal meeting spot. She went to the Command Tent, rolling her eyes at his inability to delegate, but he wasn’t there either. She stood in the doorway, hesitating as she considered where he might be. Before she knew what was happening, a hand clapped over her mouth and an arm wrapped itself around her, pinning her arms to her body. 
> 
>  
> 
> Authors Note: Wicked author is wicked. #sorrynotsorry


	40. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “It doesn’t matter who you bring in to help with the Breach. Either group can help to close it. Unfortunately, the group you leave behind is going to suffer.”
> 
> “Suffer how?” Maxwell’s voice was steady but Emma could see the hint of pleading behind his eyes.
> 
> “They will be used and corrupted and we will end up fighting them before this is all over. That’s all I can tell you.”
> 
> A heavy weight fell over the room. “I will speak with Fiona and see what she has to say before I make my decision.”

“I’m leaving the day after next.”

 

“Already? You just got back.”

 

He sighed. “I know. I swear, once this damned Breach is closed I’m going to throw a weeklong party and no one is allowed to be sober.” It made Emma a little sad to know that party wouldn’t happen for a long time yet. 

 

They were sitting together in the grass and Maxwell had laid his head in her lap while Emma played idly with his hair. “Do tell me what I need to know.”

 

Emma barked a laugh in response. “You ban me from the war room nearly all day yesterday and now I’m supposed to help you again?”

 

He pouted up at her. “ _ You _ are recovering. Besides, Cassandra is still mad and I know for a fact that Cullen would destroy anyone who lets you anywhere near preparations for leaving.”

 

“He doesn’t really think I’m going to run off again so quickly, does he?”

 

“Don’t believe he thinks much at all when it comes to you. The man is completely smitten.”

 

The corners of her lips curled before Emma remembered the way he had dropped her hand and sent her away last night. “I thought he might be at one point but… No. Not anymore anyways.”

 

Maxwell only raised an eyebrow. “Anyways,” she continued. “I have loads of useful info if you’re ready for it.” In response he pushed himself up and tackled her into a thank you hug, before flopping loosely on top of her. She let out an exaggerated ‘oof’ as his full weight settled onto her chest. “Some people might prefer to do this from an upright position?”

 

“Some people are boring, my dearest Emma. That and they haven’t learned how comfortable you are yet. Also, something hilarious about getting horizontal. I don’t know, I’m exhausted.”

 

“Oh, you poor dear! You’ve lost your clever tongue?” She pressed her hand to his forehead. “Are you ill?”

 

“He had better not be. He assured us he would be ready to depart in a day.” Cassandra was scowling slightly, but in a manner that betrayed worry and not simply annoyance.

 

“So I’m just a tool to you? How disappointing, Cassandra. Lucky for you, she was joking.” Cassandra looked to Emma who nodded her affirmation.

 

“Good.”

 

“I was about to tell Max a little about Redcliffe, if you would like to stay?”

 

“This is hardly an appropriate place for such a meeting.”

 

“Well, some of you wouldn’t allow me to stay in the meetings yesterday.”

 

The Seeker looked as though she were ready with a scathing remark but decided to be the better woman. She sighed. “Please continue. I would like to know as much as possible about what we are in for in making this deal.”

 

“A Tevinter magister messing with time magic is in Redcliffe. It is likely to… complicate things.”

 

Cassandra snorted. “Time magic? There is no such thing.”

 

Maxwell laughed. “Cassandra, really? We have a woman here who tells the future and you are questioning time magic? I bet you three days of camp duties that she is right.”

 

“I am not interested in your foolish games.” She paused. “Five days. It will turn out to only look like time magic but be something else entirely.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes, knowing full well that the Seeker had stepped in it. “The magister’s son, Felix, and a friend of his can tell you more. You can trust them.”

 

“Can we trust Fiona?” Maxwell was frowning slightly.

 

“If you couldn’t, I would tell you not to go. She will tell you the truth, yes. But she has gotten in over her head and needs help.”

 

“Vivienne will love to rub her face in that.”

 

“You’re bringing her?” Emma wrinkled her nose.

 

“And Sera.”

 

Emma pushed him off her chest so she could look him in the eye. “Let me get this straight. You are going to meet with the rebel mages and you’re bringing an elf who is afraid of magic, a mage who wants to reinstate the circles, and a Seeker?” She shot a sideways glance at Cassandra. “No offense.”

 

Maxwell snorted in surprise. “You make a good point, but Vivienne knows Fiona and her insights will be useful... I wanted to give everyone a break who had dragged themselves through the bedraggled Storm Coast with me. Perhaps I’ll bring Blackwall instead of Sera- He seems  _ quite  _ refreshed.” He winked at her.

 

Cassandra looked back and forth between them. “I am missing a joke.”

 

“Emma and the warden knocked boots.” Cassandra made a disgusted noise in response and stalked off without another word to the sounds of Maxwell’s raucous laughter.

 

\--

 

Once again, Cullen wasn’t waiting for her in their normal meeting spot. She went to the Command Tent, rolling her eyes at his inability to delegate, but he wasn’t there either. She stood in the doorway, hesitating as she considered where he might be. Before she knew what was happening, a hand clapped over her mouth and an arm wrapped itself around her, pinning her arms to her body. Half of her willed herself not to panic while the other half acted without thought. She flicked her wrist, bringing her walking stick into a horizontal position and wedged it between her elbow and her torso. She twisted and pulled, moving her stick behind her assailant’s body and pulling him off balance. The arms holding her dropped as he fought to rebalance himself.

 

“I think the stick might be cheating.”

 

“Cullen? You scared me.”

 

“That was kind of the point.” He shot her a crooked grin. 

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“We won’t be sparring today,” he explained. “Your leg isn’t recovered enough for the types of acrobatics required to wield daggers effectively. You’ll only feel frustrated. I thought though... “ He rubbed the back of his neck as he paused. “Leliana and Josephine have not been dissuaded from their desire to teach you the Game and with the Inquisition growing in influence… You should know how to respond if you are attacked by surprise while unarmed.”

 

“I guess that makes sense,” she responded slowly. “But seriously, what if I’d hurt you?” He smirked at her. “Okay fine. Point taken.”

 

Emma walked with him back to their regular spot and he immediately grabbed her wrist, pulled her towards him. She stumbled into him and, startled, grabbed his shoulder to stop herself from falling. She realized he wasn’t wearing any armour, which she supposed was sensible for something like this but which instantly made her nervous. He looked mildly amused at her clumsiness.

 

“Don’t you get all lofty with me. I’m injured.” His eyes flashed with something she couldn’t discern but her attention was drawn to his fingers suddenly digging into her waist and she realized he had grabbed her with his free hand when she stumbled. In the same moment, he released her.

 

“See if you can twist your wrist so it is narrow where my thumb and forefinger meet, then pull as hard as you can.” She looked down at where he held her wrist and followed his instructions but could not break free. “It would be easier if you were less tiny,” he laughed. Emma glowered up at him. “See, this is the weakest part of my grip but my fingers overlap so much because your wrist is small. Try putting your hands together and use the force of both arms to pull.”

 

This time it worked.

 

“Good. Now both hands.” Emma offered him her outstretched arms and he gathered her wrists together in his hands. He hesitated. “Do you trust me?”

 

Emma quirked a confused half-smile. “I thought the point was to scare me. It will hardly work if you’re-” Cullen hauled her wrists upwards and over her head, forcefully walking her backwards and pressing her against a tree. Her eyes widened and she gasped when her back thudded against the solid trunk. She half expected him to let go, apologize, but he didn’t. He looked down at her, his face mere inches away, expression indecipherable.

 

She swallowed. “You haven’t told me what to do.” Her voices sounded so small compared to the noise of her heart thudding loudly. She could see the rise and fall of his chest as his breath ghosted across her face. He smelled lightly of wine and she wondered if he had been drinking. 

 

“It’s the same challenge as before. Find your strengths and use them against my weaknesses.” He adjusted his hold on her and she was stretched further, barely standing on the ground.

 

“So I should employ my excellent wit to tease you into submission?”

 

He smirked. “You could try, but I’ve mostly figured out your games by now.”

 

Emma closed her eyes, tried to concentrate. It was difficult with him so close. She imagined him letting go and running his hands down her arms, her sides, and settling at her hips. “I can’t think.”

 

“It won’t be any easier with a real assailant.”

 

She tried to pull but she couldn’t get any leverage. She twisted her shoulders as much as she could between his body and the tree and hauled forward, pulling his arms sideways. Her arms were down but he was still holding her wrists. She pulled downwards, using his height against him and broke free. She realized she was panting, it had taken so much effort. 

 

“Good.” He smiled and was quickly on her again, pulling her arms behind her back and holding her by the elbows. She jammed her heel onto his foot but he didn’t flinch.

 

“What the hell kind of boots are you wearing?”

 

“Good instinct. Keep going.” She tried to wrestle forward but he held her strong. Then she tried to throw her head back into his but he was too tall for it to hit anywhere useful. Cullen quickly pulled her arms together, holding them with just one arm now and he wrapped his free hand around her throat. Her heart started beating faster and the adrenaline of fighting was starting to mix together with something else. “You’re running out of time. What are you going to do?”

 

Emma’s mind was fuzzy. She was hot all over from the feeling of his body around her. Even the hand on her neck only served to reinforce how strong and in control he was and she wasn’t sure she hated it. “I don’t know.”

 

“Think Emma,” he hissed in her ear. She slammed her foot backwards into his knee. He grunted. “Okay, that might work with more leverage and metal boots.”

 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” She turned her head to try and look at him and felt the firm press of his hand on her neck. He wasn’t squeezing but he wasn’t letting her move easily.

 

“No. Though I assume you’d have kicked harder if you weren’t injured.” His voice was filled with amusement. 

 

She reached for a Thedas-appropriate insult. “Blighted nug humper.”

 

He laughed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Varric.” 

 

“No. Such. Thing.” She grunted the words as she tried to twist and pull out of his hold like she had before. 

 

“Not going to work from this angle. You can’t move against my centre of balance, and if I don’t like what you’re doing then all I have to do is squeeze.” He flexed his fingers slightly. “You’ll have to try something new.” He slowly started walking her forward, pressed her into the tree again. “Free yourself,” he spoke low into the back of her head. She could feel his lips moving against her hair. Something had changed in his tone and she felt the thickness of it.

 

“I can’t.” She was tired, she was sore, she was overwhelmed with the feeling of his body against hers as he hauled her arms upwards, pushing her shoulders forward and forcing her to her toes. Her waist moved backwards to compensate and she felt him slot himself against her. 

 

“Come on, Emma. Someone is attacking you. You will not simply give up.” She squirmed against him, barely able to move anymore. The harder she fought, the closer he pressed into her. 

 

“Cullen,” she whined.

 

“No. Fight,” he instructed. She could feel the movement of his muscles as he shifted against her and she trembled at the feeling. “Am I scaring you?” He murmured, his voice low, his lips still pressed against her hair.

 

“No.” But her voice was shaky. Scared was not the right word but she felt a rising unease.

 

“You should be.” He was almost growling now.  _ What is going on?  _ He had never been like this with her before. She had seen him get frustrated and even yell at recruits before, but this was different. He shifted his hand lower, pressing now against her chest, his forearm supporting her upper body. It gave her enough stability to lift up with her legs and she kicked them both out, propelling them away from the tree and onto the ground. She only half registered the pain in her injured leg as she fell.

 

He was on top of her in a heartbeat. He pinned her to the ground from behind, arms over top of hers holding her down. “Cullen, wait.” 

 

“No. You don’t get to rest.” She tried to struggle upwards but met with the solid barrier of his body. Every inch of her was trapped by him, he was achingly hot and her skin burned where he touched her. Suddenly he was shifting, flipping her over, and she still couldn’t get free. 

 

“You don’t get to rest,” he repeated, his face inches from her own. “Not out there. You run off without care for your safety and you think you can just rest?” He was yelling at her now.

 

“That’s what this is about? You’re still mad that I left?”

 

“Yes,” he growled. “I am mad. Now fight me.” He was gripping her wrists so tight she was certain they would bruise. His leg was digging into her aching calf.

 

“I’ve been back for days and you said nothing. You’re being ridiculous.”

 

“And you are a foolhardy woman who is going to get herself killed. Fight. Back.”

 

Emma swallowed her urge to yell back at him, to unleash her fury in a torrent of choice expletives. She dropped her voice low, barely above a whisper. “Cullen, you’re hurting me.”

 

He snarled for a half second before surprise and concern spread across his face. “Maker- I’m sorry” He scrambled off of her immediately. “I don’t know what came over me.”

 

She slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Cullen,” she began.

 

“I- I apologise. I will leave.” He turned. He walked away.

 

She watched, confused and unsure how to feel. She was angry that he’d hidden his anger and let it out in this way, she was certain of that much. Everything else was a confusing mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Maxwell glowered and twisted a fist into the wooden table. “He gave me a proper haranguing that made Cassandra look reasonable but he didn’t dare get physical with me.” He stood. “I’m going to go give him a piece of my mind.”
> 
> “You are going to do no such thing,” Emma snapped, prompting him to sink back down into his chair. “He will be getting a piece of my mind, thank you very much. Just as soon as I figure out what it is.” 
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Okay, that scene hella got away from me and could use a lot of tightening up but... just take the longer chapter and enjoy it, yeah? Haha.


	41. Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “You don’t get to rest,” he repeated, his face inches from her own. “Not out there. You run off without care for your safety and you think you can just rest?” He was yelling at her now.
> 
> “That’s what this is about? You’re still mad that I left?”
> 
> “Yes,” he growled. “I am mad. Now fight me.” He was gripping her wrists so tight she was certain they would bruise. His leg was digging into her aching calf.

“So Visions, you going to tell us what that was about?” The dwarf was swirling the liquid in his mug, his eyes watching his hands. His sly smirk was facing her directly, however.

 

“What was what about?” 

 

Maxwell chuckled. “You weren’t exactly hidden by that tree, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

 

Emma scrunched her nose, still just as confused. “What tree?”

 

“The one our commander nearly had you up against this afternoon.”

 

Emma looked back and forth between them. “That is not what that was about.”

 

“Far be it for me to say, but our stoic Commander looked just about ready to devour you,” Maxwell winked.

 

“Yeah, that was training derailed by anger and definitely not what you’re thinking,” she sighed. “I didn’t even know how mad he was.”

 

Varric appeared puzzled. Maxwell glowered and twisted a fist into the wooden table. “He gave me a proper haranguing that made Cassandra look reasonable but he didn’t dare get physical with me.” He stood. “I’m going to go give him a piece of my mind.”

 

“You are going to do no such thing,” Emma snapped, prompting him to sink back down into his chair. “He will be getting a piece of  _ my  _ mind, thank you very much. Just as soon as I figure out what it is.” 

 

“I must admit I am truly terrified of the idea that  _ you  _ might not know your mind.” Blackwall slid into the seat across from her with a grin, a wary Sera taking the seat next to him. 

 

“Maybe she’s got too many in there? Minds, I mean.”

 

“Just the one mind,” Emma assured. “But I definitely fumble about just as much as the rest of you lot. I just pretend to know what I’m doing.” Noting the none-too-subtle expression of concern that appeared on Blackwall’s face, she reached across and squeezed his hand briefly. “Other times I know exactly what I’m doing.” She addressed the statement to Sera, even though it was directed elsewhere. The elf looked away uncomfortably.

 

“Yeh, well, just don’t be doing things at me and we’ll be good.”

 

Varric laughed. “You’re not still scared of this one, are you Buttercup?”

 

“Shu’up! You don’t know. She could be doing some weird magicky shite on you right now and you wouldn’t even know. Maybe you only like her because she spelled you.”

 

Emma raised her eyebrow. “Don’t you think I’d have worked that magic on you if I had it?”

 

“Oi, don’t you dare!” Sera looked around indignantly as the table erupted with laughter. Across the tavern, a similar sound was emanating from a group of Chargers gathered around Iron Bull.

 

“I know what you said, Visions, but I’m still not sure I trust that one.”

 

Emma smiled calmly. “You’ll get there Varric. Just trust me.”

 

“No. No, no. That’s the shite. Don’t do that shite.”

 

Maxwell laughed. “It’s not even her fault! Varric started it.” 

 

Sera scowled and turned to Blackwall. “You’re all sensible and normal, yeah? You get it.”

 

“Sorry, but no. I’ve found it quite reassuring, in all honesty.” She let out a long noise of exasperation and slumped into the back of her seat, arms crossed.

 

“Speaking of The Iron Bull, why does he call you ‘Kitten’?” Maxwell smirked.

 

“Ugh. Ask him.”

 

“Oh, I did and he listed off a dozen reasons that all make sense and every single one of them was a lie.”

 

“Then you got about as far as I did.”

 

“You’re really more of a wolf anyways.”

 

She laughed. “What?”

 

“You’re a pack animal. You need me around to cuddle with!”

 

“She’s cuter than a wolf though.” Varric put in. “And littler. More of a fennec, really.”

 

Emma took a slow look around the table and smiled to herself. She never thought she’d be here, comfortable with video game characters who liked her back. If her leg weren’t aching fiercely, this might be among one of her happiest moments ever- even if Sera was still giving her a fair amount of side-eye.

 

\--

 

Cullen was sitting on his bed when she arrived. His elbows rested on his knees, his head buried in his hands such that he did not see her come in. “Cullen?” She said softly.

 

Startled, he jerked upright, stumbling into a standing position. “I did not expect to see you.”

 

“We need to talk,” she shrugged. “And I am not the one who avoids difficult conversations.”

 

He nodded slowly. “I should apologize again.”

 

“Perhaps, but maybe first you should explain why you are so mad.”

 

His face twisted. “I should think that was clear at this point.”

 

“You are angry because I left. I hardly think that warrants--”

 

“You disobeyed a direct order.” His volume rose as he interrupted her.

 

“You are not in charge of me,  _ Commander _ . I am not one of your recruits.” Her eyes narrowed and she felt her cheeks growing heated.

 

“No, you are even less prepared and you did not go with a unit of other trained soldiers.” He moved towards her, fury lining his face.

 

“My company was--”

 

“An apostate, a mercenary working for a Ben Hassrath spy, and an underhanded rogue.”

 

“And a Grey Warden and the Herald of Andraste. They were perfectly capable of keeping me safe.”

 

“You were injured! They didn’t keep you safe at all.”

 

“A bit of bad luck.”

 

“You are a target out there Emma. You’re a target in here. It is profound good luck that you are still here at all.” He reached towards her but she stepped away, remembering how quickly his hold had turned aggressive before. A brief flash of hurt passed over his face but it struggled to assert itself over the frustration and anger.

 

“Maxwell is a target and he is constantly out there.” She wondered what was happening even as she continued. She didn’t come here to fight.

 

“He is the only one who can close rifts and he can actually take care of himself.”

 

“So that’s the difference then. You don’t trust me to look after myself.” For the first time in the argument, Emma’s anger possibly matched his.

 

“You have proven that you cannot be trusted time and time again.”

 

“Why train me then? What is your end goal if you don’t think I can look after myself? Are you just occupying my time and trying to keep me out of trouble? Are you giving me what you think I want so I’ll stay here and share information?” She snapped her mouth shut, knowing the last bit was too far- knowing he had sworn that he didn’t only care about her knowledge. She could see it on his face. It was too far. They were words that stabbed at some place vulnerable between them.

 

“Because I wanted just a glimmer of hope that you might make it through all this.” His voice had quieted some. “That you do not appear to share that goal is…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

 

“You think I don’t want to live?” She lowered her voice to match his.

 

“You certainly seem willing to take it or leave it.”

 

“Of course I want to live, Cullen. But what is even the point if I am trapped here, hiding behind the same walls while others go out and have their adventures? The Inquisition will not be here forever, and then what? Everything worth doing has a cost. Safety is just one of them.”

 

Cullen stepped forward and gathered her face in his hands. This time she did not move away. “Your safety is important. I cannot protect you if you go behind my back. Please, Emma. I have asked you before, let me protect you.”

 

As she looked into pleading eyes, she felt the last of her anger ebbing away. She knew she hated the idea of being trapped but she was unable to say no in the face of those desperate, amber eyes. She couldn’t find the words so she went with a simple ‘okay’. He smiled then and she felt that she had somehow made him genuinely happy. That she had given him the one thing he wanted from the argument.

 

“I asked you to trust me earlier and I broke that trust, I know. I can never undo those actions. It was abhorrent of me to take out my anger in such a way. I only… I hope I can earn that trust back one day.” He looked so uncertain that she wanted to reach up and smooth away the worried lines furrowing across his face. 

 

Some of that desire must have played out on her face because suddenly he was embracing her. She was crushed by hard armor but he pressed his cheek into her hair and she didn’t mind so much. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve this.” He continued holding her and she could feel him murmuring into her hair but could no longer hear the words. She lets him hold her for as long as he needs.

 

\--

 

_ “Where are we?” They appeared to be in the mountains, with nothing but trees to be seen for miles. It was so quiet. _

 

_ He shot her an assessing look. “We are in the Fade, of course.” _

 

_ “I mean what are we looking at? What are we being shown? This is all just wilderness.” _

 

_ “Ah, I thought you might appreciate the burial of your goddess's ashes.” _

 

_ “This is Havard burying Andraste’s ashes?” There was, as it happens, a man a little ways away burying something into the side of the mountain. _

 

_ He nodded. _

 

_ “What makes you think I am Andrastian?” _

 

_ “Are you not? I recollect that you had a Chantry service for your friend.” _

 

_ Emma was silent. The man had begun praying quietly. _

 

_ “I have been callous again. I apologise.” _

 

_ “No. It’s fine. Only, I realised that I had not thought of him recently. We move on so quickly, but then, our lives are so short I imagine it is the only way we can make use of them. Perhaps if I were immortal, I could give him the grief he deserves.” She let out a long sigh. “The ritual was nice but, no, I am not Andrastian. We don’t have the Chantry where I am from.” _

 

_ “And yet you know the stories.” _

 

_ “I know some.” _

 

_ “Then what do you believe, shira’lan?” _

 

_ “I believe that people like to tell stories to help themselves make sense of the world, and I believe many of those stories hold pieces of truth within them. But… memory is fallible and people have an amazing skill to twist truths to suit their purposes. The value is in discovering what the story is meaning to say and whether that holds for you.” _

 

_ “You sound as though you do not believe in objective truth.” _

 

_ She shot him a withering look. “Of course I believe in objective truth. I just think it’s so big and complicated that people cannot see it- even the ones who were there and think they understand. Even they do not have all the answers.” _

 

_ He hummed noncommittally. _

 

_ “What do you believe, Solas?” _

 

_ “I believe it is time for you to wake up.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “You need to prowl. You’ve been retreating over the past few days.”
> 
> Emma snorted. “You barely know me.”
> 
> “You’re not that tough to figure out.” He grinned, baring his teeth. “Some people are a puzzle. You? You’re easy. You want adventure. You had a taste of being out there and now you want more and you don’t know how to tell anyone. You, little prophet, want to kill more demons.”


	42. Taking Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Cullen stepped forward and gathered her face in his hands. This time she did not move away. “Your safety is important. I cannot protect you if you go behind my back. Please, Emma. I have asked you before, let me protect you.”
> 
> As she looked into pleading eyes, she felt the last of her anger ebbing away. She knew she hated the idea of being trapped but she was unable to say no in the face of those desperate, amber eyes. She couldn’t find the words so she went with a simple ‘okay’. He smiled then and she felt that she had somehow made him genuinely happy. That she had given him the one thing he wanted from the argument.

After Maxwell left again, Emma felt lonely and worried. She knew he should be back soon but part of her worried that something would happen and he’d wind up fighting Alexius before he should be. Before she could warn him. Before she could make plans for Haven. She wandered the village perimeter idly, wrapped in her cloak and wondering what to do with herself. She felt trapped in a way she hadn’t before. She felt like she never left the hospital.

 

The feeling of a pair of eyes watching slowly crept its way up Emma’s spine and she turned to see The Iron Bull leaning against a wall. “What?” She snapped, finding herself irritable.

 

He shrugged. “You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin, Kitten.” 

 

“What if I am?” She bit out. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

 

“You need to prowl. You’ve been retreating over the past few days.”

 

Emma snorted. “You barely know me.”

 

“You’re not that tough to figure out.” He grinned, baring his teeth. “Some people are a puzzle. You? You’re easy. You want adventure. You had a taste of being out there and now you want more and you don’t know how to tell anyone.  _ You,  _ little prophet, want to kill more demons.”

 

“Shouldn’t I not want and accept the role society has decided on for me instead? Isn’t that what the Qun would teach?”

 

Bull laughed. “You bas always think you understand the Qun. You are wrong.”

 

“Alright then, explain it to me  _ Hissrad _ .”

 

“You will not make me angry by being petulant, Kitten.”

 

“And you will not learn my secrets by alienating me and calling me a  _ thing _ .”

 

He laughed again, his demeanor ever immutable. “That is only somewhat true. I learned plenty from you just now. Of course, it is usually easier and more enjoyable to do things the friendly way, especially the  _ really  _ friendly way.” 

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Then instead of telling me what I want, why don’t you tell me what  _ you  _ want, Bull? At least then both of us can learn something new from this conversation.”

 

“Other than doing things the  _ really  _ friendly way?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I’m good, Kitten. I’ve got people to kill, people to manipulate, and people to drink with- nothing more to want.”

 

She made short noise of acknowledgement. “And the Qun, of course.”

 

Bull’s face was impassive. “Of course.”

 

“Hey, Bull?” He waited. “Sorry I called you Hissrad. Seheron sucked. I shouldn’t be bringing up who you were then.”

 

He snorted. “Hissrad  _ is _ my name.”

 

“If you say.” Emma smiled and left.

 

\--

 

She knocked tentatively before cracking open the door. “Josie?” She called softly. The woman had insisted her door was always open for Emma but it still felt awkward to intrude.

 

“Emma. Do come in. I’ve just been writing to Lord Maerford and it is tediously dull. How are you healing? Would you like some tea?”

 

“Umm… Healing well, I think. That’s what they keep telling me. I’d love a cup of tea, thank you.” She settled into the chair next to Josie’s desk and accepted the cup slid over to her.

 

“I’m actually here for a little favour…” She said hesitantly. “I know I’m not exactly in anyone’s good graces at the moment.”

 

“Nonsense.” Josie patted her hand fondly. “I can certainly understand wanting to contribute more, even if completely unnecessary, and also the desire to try something new. I believe only Cassandra and Cullen were truly upset by it.”

 

“Thank you... for saying that. I wanted to do something to say thank you to the Chargers and to Solas, actually.”

 

“Ah, the Chargers brought you back to Haven, I understand. This can certainly be done. And Solas? I wasn’t aware the two of you were friends, or even much for speaking to each other.”

 

“We’re not really… but he took care of me too and followed up when he got back. He’s being… nice, I suppose.”

 

“I see. Well, mercenaries are simple. We’ll deliver them a cask of ale on the house. I am unsure about the other one however. We do not precisely have the resources at this time to be procuring additional obscure magical artifacts or anything of the like.”

 

“I believe he likes frilly cakes?”

 

She giggled, her hand placed delicately in front of her mouth. “We can have the kitchen make something a little special.”

 

“Thanks Josie. You are a true goddess.”

 

\--

 

Emma’s feet dangled from the edge of the stone half-wall where she sat with Varric’s book, her walking stick leaning beside her. A few metres ahead, Varric and Sera were competing for bragging rights. She had long since abandoned her reading to watch, it was so close. Plus it was fun to watch them jab at each other-- Varric with his words and Sera quite literally trying to poke him in the side each time he was about to release a bolt.

 

“Okay, Buttercup. Go stand over there, you’re not allowed anywhere near me this time.”

 

“Pfft. Should just do better, yeh? Focus in like nothing is stuff.”

 

“Like nothing is stuff. Excellent advice.” Varric began to line up his shot. Sera looked for all the world like she might just charge him down. Emma looked around her and found a tiny pebble. She lobbed it upwards towards him and it bounced off his head just as he pulled the trigger. “Nugshit!” He flinched in surprise and his bolt went off course, barely hitting the target. Sera cackled and Varric looked upwards, suspicious of nearby trees. Emma pressed her lips closed, looking back at her book in case he turned her way. “Doesn’t count,” he grumbled.

 

“Does!” Sera retorted.

 

“If you win now, you know it will be a cheap victory.”

 

Sera lined up another shot and released her arrow dead centre with a whooping cry. “Eat it!”

 

Varric muttered something low as he loaded another bolt and raised Bianca. Emma quietly reached down and pinched another pebble. She saw Varric inhale, ready to release on a steady exhale, and tossed it. Perfect timing sent another bolt off center, landing too low. Varric spun around and glared. “You meddling, troublesome… I will get you back.”

 

Emma laughed. “I’m sure you will, Varric.”

 

“Serves you right, being all poncy with your fancy lady bow!” Sera called as he marched off, shaking his head. She looked at Emma and grinned before running off in the other direction.

 

\--

 

The days passed in a monotonous sort of way. She didn’t have a schedule but Emma found herself doing many of the same activities each day and growing more and more bored. She began taking afternoon tea with Josie; they would practice her ‘Antivan’ and Josie would sneak in little lessons about charming nobles and recognizing slights whenever Emma let her guard down. She did yoga with Rina again, and a few other soldiers who found it helped with their soreness after a long day. She drank with the Chargers most nights, pulling Varric reluctantly into the group until he began to get more comfortable around the mercenary crew. She had even convinced a nervous and skeptical Sera to teach her how to pick locks with the promise of aid in future pranking endeavours. She trained with Cullen, making huge strides in skill, but she never saw him outside those sessions and he seemed distant. She figured he was probably still upset with her and she swallowed her feelings as best she could.

 

She was busy, but she was bored. It was all very safe. 

 

She decided she needed to get some fresh air. The kind that was outside Haven. Perhaps just a walk around the nearby lake would be enough to shake out the feeling of being trapped. 

 

“Excuse me, miss- err, Lady Bennett. You cannot go that way.”

 

“Huh? What do you mean I can’t go that way?” She eyed up the nervous scout indignantly.

 

“You are not allowed to leave Haven without approval from Commander Rutherford, my lady.” He was shuffling his feet and she saw sweat marks where he rubbed his hands on his tunic.

 

“Fucking hells, I’m not!” She made to move around him and he reached out to grab her arm. She looked at him incredulously.

 

“Beggin’ your pardon but I’m under strict orders not to allow you to leave.”

 

“Oh, this is just wonderful. So what, you just follow me around making sure that I stay in the safe zone?” His silence told her that this was more or less accurate. “Oh, this is fucking…” She turned, looking in the direction of the command tent and setting her jaw. Someone was about to have a strip torn off them.

 

He wasn’t there. She looked around and spotted him in the training yard, sparring with a number of recruits at once. Sweat dripped from his brow but he was beating them fairly easily. They were clearly fresh but it was still a wonder to watch a half dozen men unable to land a single hit. He spotted her and flashed a warm smile between swings. Her heart thudded despite herself.  _ You are mad at him. Don’t let him charm his way out of it!  _

 

Match completed, he walked over to a water basin, sipping some from a ladle and pouring the rest over his head. Droplets glistened as they ran down his face and neck, dragging his curls in untamed directions. Her heart still wasn’t listening, thudding away rapidly, and low down another organ had definitely given up on being angry. She shook her head, clearing the haze from her thoughts. “Cullen Rutherford, you will explain yourself,” she demanded. Loudly.

 

His calm smile instantly disappeared, replaced by uncertainty and cautiousness. “Perhaps we should discuss your concerns somewhere else?”

 

“Why bother? Apparently I don’t deserve privacy anyways.  _ Apparently  _ I am back to being a prisoner in this organization.”

 

He grabbed her arm and began dragging her towards the command tent as she fought against him. It was a losing battle and she found herself quickly sat in a chair inside his tent as he held a disbelieving hand to his forehead. “You said you would allow me to protect you.”

 

“That doesn’t mean I gave you permission to have me followed and my movements restricted. Just who do you think you are?”

 

A beleaguered sigh escaped his lips. “Just someone who wants to see you safe.”

 

“No. That is not going to work this time, Cullen. You have invaded my privacy and made me a prisoner in this village. I will not be continually punished for leaving and I will not allow you to make me feel small and weak.” Emma stood, angry tears hot upon her cheeks, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma was sulking on the road, again, when she saw them in the distance. Four, no wait, five people on horseback coming up the road. Emma stood, craning her neck to see. It was definitely them: Maxwell, Cassandra, Blackwall, Vivienne… and Dorian. A swell of giddiness brought a smile to her face. She hadn’t considered that Dorian would come back to Haven with them, but it made sense. Looking down, she realized she had begun bouncing on the balls of her feet. Idiot. She didn’t care.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: I know, I know. They just made up - but you had to know she wouldn't really be okay with being hovered over like a delicate flower. They have to figure out each other's boundaries and come to an understanding! And then kiss. Obviously.


	43. Mages and Templars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> He grabbed her arm and began dragging her towards the command tent as she fought against him. It was a losing battle and she found herself quickly sat in a chair inside his tent as he held a disbelieving hand to his forehead. “You said you would allow me to protect you.”
> 
> “That doesn’t mean I gave you permission to have me followed and my movements restricted. Just who do you think you are?”
> 
> A beleaguered sigh escaped his lips. “Just someone who wants to see you safe.”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Borrowed a fair bit of in-game dialogue this chapter. Hopefully the weaving of my dialogue with canon dialogue isn't too jarring. :)

Emma hadn’t had a conversation with Cullen in days. She had seen him, watching and giving her sad looks from a distance, but she hadn’t wavered. She missed him. Of course, she wouldn’t admit that to anyone- not even to annoying dwarves who gave her knowing looks when she said she was fine.

 

She was petulantly sitting on the road, as far out as she could go before being stopped. If she was going to be watched and stopped from leaving, then she was at least going to put herself somewhere they had to pay vigilant attention. She had briefly entertained the idea of asking Solas to help her leave again but he hadn’t approached her since the dream about Andraste’s ashes and she was nervous that she had been too pointed in her discussion as of late. He had sent her a thank you note.

 

_ Miss Bennett, _

 

_ I very much enjoyed the cake. I am pleased that you are recovering well. _

 

_ With Appreciation, _

_ Solas _

 

That was it. Hardly encouraging of whatever budding friendship she had thought they might be developing.

 

“Here you go, Kitten.” Iron Bull sat beside her and passed a large mug of ale.

 

“Did you bring this all the way from the tavern?”

 

“Sure. Almost brought a howling Flissa too but she gave up about ten steps past the door.” Laughing, he took a drink from his own mug.

 

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.”

 

“You could fight them for it.”

 

“What?”

 

“To leave. Just pull out your weapon and make them stop you.” He shrugged. “They probably wouldn’t fight anyways.”

 

“Your advice is, as always, completely on point. But no, we’ll all be leaving soon anyways.”

 

“Yeah? What do you know that I don’t, Kitten?”

 

She sighed. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

 

\--

 

Emma was sulking on the road, again, when she saw them in the distance. Four, no wait, five people on horseback coming up the road. Emma stood, craning her neck to see. It was definitely them: Maxwell, Cassandra, Blackwall, Vivienne… and Dorian. A swell of giddiness brought a smile to her face. She hadn’t considered that Dorian would come back to Haven with them, but it made sense. Looking down, she realized she had begun bouncing on the balls of her feet.  _ Idiot.  _ She didn’t care that she looked ridiculous.

 

She was joyful because Maxwell was back. She was excited Dorian was with him.

 

It was the best mood she’d been in since…  _ Well, we won’t go there. _

 

Emma flew into Maxwell’s arms, squeezing him tightly. “I missed you.”

 

“I missed you too, sweet girl.”

 

“No offense, darling. You’re very sweet but this roadside greeting thing is a bit gauche.” Vivienne rode past them and into Haven. 

 

“Aw, she’s just jealous. No one is above love and affection, Vivienne!” Maxwell called to her retreating back. She did not deign to respond to his teasing.

 

“Are you going to introduce me, or must I do everything myself?” Dorian’s voice was every bit the haughtiness implied by his words but Emma could see a hint of vulnerability, of nerves, hidden behind it. It was very much the face of someone used to rejection.

 

“No need. It’s wonderful to meet you, Dorian.” She smiled warmly and, following an urge, darted in and hugged him.

 

“What is- Maxwell, this creature is embracing me.”

 

“You could try embracing her back.”

 

“Hm. Quite.” Dorian tentatively wrapped his arms around her and she felt him relax into it. 

 

She pulled away and held him at arm’s length, giving him a lengthy up and down. “Oh my goodness, look at you. You’re even more handsome in person.”

 

Dorian laughed. “Alright. Perhaps I might like this one. She has excellent taste.”

 

“Well, as nice as this is, I believe I will head in myself.”

Emma, on a run of affection for everyone who had returned, turned and wrapped her arms around Cassandra. It was awkward over the woman’s cuirass and she kept it short lest she get pushed away. “Welcome back, Cassandra.”

 

A pause. “I- Thank you.” She was blushing but a barely repressed smile toyed at the corners of tight lips as she walked away.

 

“That is a thing I never thought I would see.” Emma looked over at the warden with a smile. She reached out and gave his beard an affectionate tug before completing the round of hugs with a tight squeeze in which she was lifted off the ground.

 

“To the tavern?”

 

\--

 

They didn’t make it to the tavern. 

 

“Summons for you, my lord. A raven arrived this morning and a meeting has been called in the war room.”

 

Maxwell and Cassandra looked weary, and brought days of dust into the meeting with them, but they were quickly all assembled. Emma strategically positioned herself next to Cullen, needing a good reason to avoid looking at him. No matter her stubborn refusal to forgive him, everything inside her gave up when she looked at him.

 

“I realize you’ve only just returned from Redcliffe, Herald, but we’ve received a letter from a Magister Alexius who states he was willing to negotiate with the Herald for use of the rebel mages.”

 

Maxwell thumped a fist on the table. “Not negotiate. Rescue. They have indentured themselves out of desperation.”

 

“We hardly have the manpower to storm the castle. Unless you have another plan, we should give up this nonsense and go get the Templars.” Cullen’s voice betrayed his irritation.

 

“Redcliffe castle in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand.”

 

“The letter asks for the Herald of Andraste and his prophet by name. It’s an obvious trap.”

 

“Of course it is a trap. Wait, what? He asked for me?” Emma tried not to look completely dumbfounded but this was the first time her presence had threatened to change the story and she felt a cold chill run up her spine.

 

“Yes, to…” Josephine scanned the page for the relevant passage. “Provide assurances as to the discrete outcomes of any negotiated contracts.”

 

“That will not be happening.” Emma felt a hand grabbing her own as Cullen pulled her behind him defensively. She looked up at him, just able to see his profile from where she now stood behind his shoulder. His jaw tensed and flexed determinedly.

 

Leliana looked completely disgusted. “A Tevinter magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing.”

 

“Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there, you’ll die.” Emma felt his grip on her hand tighten as he said the words, though he was ostensibly directing them at Maxwell. “We will lose our advantage against our enemies and the only means we have of closing the rifts. I won’t allow it.”

 

“And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep! You are allowing your feelings to-”

 

Josephine smoothly interrupted the accusation. “Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught. An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

 

Cassandra took a deep breath. “The Magister-”

 

“Has outplayed us.” Emma subtly extricated herself from his hold while Cullen was distracted with the argument. She moved towards Maxwell, who was gripping the war table with white knuckles and shaking. She put a cautious hand on his shoulder.

 

“You okay?”

 

“We can’t just give up. There has to be something we can do.” He gritted the words but he straightened and put a hand over her own. “I will not let Tevinter slavery exist in Ferelden. Please, Emma. Tell me there is something we can do.”

 

“There is.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Leliana, I believe you remember the location of an escape route for the family that leads into the castle?”

 

She nodded, seeing where Emma was going. “I do. It is too narrow for our troops but we could send agents through.”

 

“It is too risky. Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

 

“Not if we send the envoy requested as a distraction. His attention will be on Maxwell and myself while the agents infiltrate the castle and disable his defenses.”

 

Cullen shook his head, a sadness in his eyes that said he was aware he was losing the argument. “It is too much to gamble with.”

 

The doors flew open and an indignant Dorian marched in. “Fortunately, you’ll have help,” he announced.

 

A guard rushed in behind him. “Apologies. He would not listen that this was a closed meeting.”

 

Dorian ignored him. “Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

 

“Was that ever in question?” Maxwell smirked.

 

“Well. Good.” Dorian seemed a bit taken aback to be acquiesced to so readily.

 

“The plan puts the envoys in the most danger. If you two want to play the bait then fine, it is a good plan, but Emma will not be going along.” Cullen was firm, trying to exert the one concession.

 

“The letter explicitly requests ‘the prophet’. I’m afraid there is no plan if she does not attend.” Leliana stared him down with hard eyes.

 

Emma chewed her lower lip nervously. On the one hand, she had desperately yearned to leave Haven but she decidedly did not want to go to Redcliffe and mess about with time magic. She also wasn’t sure she could watch Cullen’s face as she rode away toward danger, or Maxwell’s when everything went sideways at the castle. She stayed silent. It was for others to decide this time.

 

“There may be another option,” Josephine put in. All eyes turned to her. “Unlike our illustrious Herald, Emma has not spent much time out in Haven and we have purposely cultivated an air of mystery when responding to various requests for information. No one truly knows who she is or what she looks like. We could simply send an impostor.”

 

“Excellent,” Maxwell grinned, clearly relieved that Emma would not be put at risk. “We can bring Sera.”

 

“You must be kidding me,” Cassandra groaned.

 

“What? She’s a little unpolished but no one knows who she is either and she can handle herself in a fight.” He turned to Dorian. “Will it be a problem that she’s an elf?”

 

“I don’t think we have any information about her race. I can’t say it won’t give him pause but I believe we could get away with it.”

 

“It’s decided then.” 

 

Emma felt a confused mingling of relief and disappointment, but she didn’t have time to linger on it. “There is one more thing we should talk about.” Everyone stopped and turned to her. “The Templars. Without the Herald, I don’t believe we can save them. They are following an envy demon impersonating Lord Seeker Lucius and they have been experimenting with using red lyrium to enhance their powers.”

 

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen breathed. “You cannot be serious.”

 

“Have they gone completely mad? How could they not know that they follow a demon?” Cassandra’s face was red with fury.

 

“We must appeal to their leaders. They must not know the truth of it. Knight-Captain Denam perhaps.” Cullen’s brow was furrowed with intense speculation.

 

Emma shook her head sadly. “The leaders have already been more or less turned, including Denam. They do not know Lucius is an envy demon but they do know the harm that red lyrium is doing to those under their command and they continue to experiment.”

 

“Then what do we do? Do we attack Therinfal Redoubt to mount yet another rescue? It seems a losing proposition.”

 

“There are some knights who are questioning their leaders’ orders but are unable to truly contemplate betraying them. I am not certain but I believe that if you write to Knight-Templar Delrin Barris and explain the situation, offer those he trusts a role within the Inquisition… It would not be nothing.”

 

Maxwell heaved a deep sigh. “Is there nothing more we can do?”

 

Emma shrugged. “Without sending you, I don’t think so. The envy demon is not working alone and the one he reports to… he only wants you and that mark on your hand. By the time you get back from Redcliffe, it will be too late to do anything at all.”

 

“Alright, Emma. Help Cullen write that letter. I’ll take on the enjoyable job of telling Sera that she has to pretend to have creepy magic vision.” He smiled, but it was melancholy and Emma could feel him holding the weight of being unable to solve all the problems presented to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “I love you too, sweet girl,” he responded as he pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. “You remind me of the sister I never had,” he joked. But Emma was crying and she didn’t laugh. “Hey, what’s going on? Is there something you need to tell me?”
> 
> She shook her head. “I just… There are always multiple futures and I’ve seen the one where things go badly. I’m hoping for the one where you succeed and come back to cuddle and gossip with me.”
> 
> She did not see them off at the gate this time. She went to see Cullen.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Did I have you going? Did you think Emma was going to Redcliffe? (I kind of thought she was until... suddenly, she wasn't. Ha.)


	44. The Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma chewed her lower lip nervously. On the one hand, she had desperately yearned to leave Haven but she decidedly did not want to go to Redcliffe and mess about with time magic. She also wasn’t sure she could watch Cullen’s face as she rode away toward danger, or Maxwell’s when everything went sideways at the castle. She stayed silent. It was for others to decide this time.
> 
> “There may be another option,” Josephine put in. All eyes turned to her. “Unlike our illustrious Herald, Emma has not spent much time out in Haven and we have purposely cultivated an air of mystery when responding to various requests for information. No one truly knows who she is or what she looks like. We could simply send an impostor.”
> 
> “Alright, Emma. Help Cullen write that letter. I’ll take on the enjoyable job of telling Sera that she has to pretend to have creepy magic vision.” He smiled, but it was melancholy and Emma could feel him holding the weight of being unable to solve all the problems presented to him.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Sorry I'm posting so late! I was away for the long weekend :) Hopefully the fact that it's a bit longer than normal helps make up for the delay!

_ Knight-Templar Barris, _

 

_ You wrote to inform me that the Order has gathered at Therinfal Redoubt and subtly expressed some concern regarding some of the actions being taken by Lord Seeker Lucius and other leaders among you. I have included a letter here from a Lady Bennett. She is working with the Inquisition and has some information that you may find pertinent. You may be familiar with her under the title of the Herald of Andraste’s Prophet. _

 

_ Please know that there is a place for you, and all Templars, with the Inquisition if you ever require it. _

 

_ Sincerely, _

_ Cullen Rutherford _

 

**** attached****

 

_ Ser Barris, _

 

_ I realize that what I am about to write to you may sound like lies or a ploy but I know that you are worried about the red lyrium (yes, I know about the red lyrium) being pushed by your superiors and I believe you will take this letter seriously. Lord Seeker Lucius is  _ **_not_ ** _ Lord Seeker Lucius any longer. He is being impersonated by an envy demon who is serving the aims of someone who is very seriously trying to take over the world and is corrupting and using the Order to do it. I beg you, gather those you trust and come to Haven before you are either corrupted yourselves or die fighting your compatriots.  _

 

_ In a world where you do not come to Haven, I do not see you. You simply no longer exist in my dreams. I can’t imagine that being good. _

 

_ Please, please, please listen to me. I very much hope to see you soon, _

_ Emma (The Herald’s Prophet, or whatever they call me.) _

 

\--

 

Maxwell left quickly, bringing a number of the inner circle with him. Sera, for her part, was thrilled to impersonate Emma, seeing it as a hilarious prank to play on someone who was using their power to squash ‘little people’ (even if those people were mages). She had spent two days following Emma around and practicing her accent, saying things like ‘I have seen the truth in my dreams’ and ‘mark my words for I can peer into the future’. Emma sincerely hoped she had never actually uttered either statement because if Sera’s impression was any good, she sounded like an utter pratt doing it.

 

He also brought Iron Bull, determining that a good way to throw off a Tevinter magister might be to bring along a giant Qunari. Cassandra was coming, as another voice from the Inquisition to convince the mages to work for them, and of course Dorian would not be left behind, feeling this was his fight to take on.

 

It was a capable group, but Emma’s heart still sank at the thought of all they must take on. She couldn’t help but feel especially worried for the version of themselves that would endure an alternate future, assuming it stayed alternate, of course.

 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she joked when saying goodbye to Sera.

 

“Be nice to Dorian. He’s sensitive, and a good person,” she said to Bull. “And try not to get everyone drunk. And be safe.”

 

To Cassandra she said, “Remember those mages are scared and they felt like they had no choice. Take care of everyone. And take care of yourself.”

 

“This will not be easy for you, Alexius has gone farther than you thought. I’ll be here for whatever you need when you get back,” she said to Dorian.

 

“Be careful. Trust Dorian. I love you,” she whispered to Maxwell.

 

“I love you too, sweet girl,” he responded as he pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. “You remind me of the sister I never had,” he joked. But Emma was crying and she didn’t laugh. “Hey, what’s going on? Is there something you need to tell me?”

 

She shook her head. “I just… There are always multiple futures and I’ve seen the one where things go badly. I’m hoping for the one where you succeed and come back to cuddle and gossip with me.”

 

She did not see them off at the gate this time. She went to see Cullen.

 

\--

 

“I’m sorry.” Those were her starting words.

 

Surprised, Cullen raised his head from the missives he’d been pouring over. “You are?” He looked genuinely confused. “What for?”

 

“I reacted… badly to what you did. I still don’t think it was right or okay but I think I’m starting to understand it a little better.” Emma felt a lump growing in her throat and she stopped before it made her voice shake.

 

It didn’t help. He could tell.

 

Cullen rose from his desk and moved to her side, guiding her gently into a chair. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before removing his hand with an abrupt jerk. He cleared his throat and retreated back to his own seat. “What can I do?”

 

“Can you promise me he’ll be okay?”

 

“No, but that is always the case. There is always risk.”

 

Emma drew in a shaky breath. “This is the first time I’ve been truly worried for him. I have seen him succeed but I’ve also seen what he is up against and… it’s not good. I- I get it now. I would do almost anything to keep him safe, maybe even stop him from going if I thought the other path was any less dangerous.”

 

“You love him.” Cullen’s voice was warm, yet sad.

 

“I do. He’s like… I had a brother, you know? He died years before I came here but it’s like Maxwell fills some of that hole. He’s become family. I can’t lose him.” She was crying; she should have known better than to keep talking. 

 

She shook her head vigorously. “I’m sorry. I know this is how it is. We’re starting a war and there will be deaths on both-”

 

“What do you mean we are starting a war?” 

 

Emma blinked, surprised. “What?”

 

“If the Herald succeeds in bringing the mages back from Redcliffe, you said they could close the Breach. The balance of power will have tipped against the remaining Templars. The war should basically be over. What aren’t you telling us, Emma?”

 

“I- I was waiting until Maxwell left. He can’t know or it might affect his decisions in ways that will confuse things too much.”

 

Cullen’s face was stern. “Waiting to say what?”

 

“This is a conversation for the war room, Cullen. Not here. I already let Leliana know that I wanted to meet this afternoon. I’m not hiding anything.”

 

“Ah.” He pursed his lips. “I suppose that will be what this notice is about then.” He picked up a piece of parchment, no doubt detailing the need for his presence at a meeting that afternoon.

 

A wave of cold realization washed over her. “You really don’t trust me anymore.”

 

“What? I-”

 

“You admitted you didn’t trust me to look after myself, and then you proved it when you assigned scouts to me. It’s more though. You don’t trust me at all.”

 

“No, Emma. Please. It’s not- I mean, you’re right but- Maker, why is it so hard to talk to you?”

 

“What are you talking about, Cullen?” She blurted out the words with exasperation and pleading eyes. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. 

 

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes in concentration and Emma curled into herself, resting her chin on raised knees. “You’re right. I haven’t trusted you enough, but not in the way you’re implying. I don’t think you’re being nefarious.” Another breath, this one shakier than the last. “You’re completely impossible. You’re the type of person who blurts out that they can see the future. You walk alone to isolated places at night. You ask criminals to choose their punishment. You attack when you’re supposed to be learning to defend. You  _ flirt  _ with strange men. You leave the safety of Haven because you want to see a  _ dragon _ . Is it really so strange that I would think you would casually drop news of an impending war because you hadn’t thought it through yet?”

 

“Yes. It is.” Emma raised her head defiantly. “I might be cavalier with my own safety but I would never risk your- risk anyone’s lives like that. I have been obsessing over the information I have day in and day out. What to tell, when to tell. It’s not easy. I could make things so much worse by sharing but… I can’t not try to help either.” 

 

“I’m doing my best,” she finished quietly.

 

“Maker’s breath. Emma, I am so sorry. I had not considered the weight you must carry, seeing the things you see and I didn’t mean to imply that you would not consider others. I have been a brute.”

 

Emma snorted. “And to think I came here to apologize to you.”

 

“This is not the time for joking.”

 

“It is always the time for joking.” He gave her a long, beleaguered look. “Can I ask you for something?”

 

“Yes, anything. You know that.”

 

“This one may be harder to give than you think.” She paused. “You asked me to let you protect me. I said I would. I need you to trust me to keep my word and call off your men. I don’t like being watched, but I promise not to run off looking for dragons without talking to you first.”

 

He pursed his lips, considering her words. “Okay.”

 

“Just like that?”

 

“No. Not just like that. You don’t know how much it meant that you didn’t argue about staying behind while Sera pretends to be you in Redcliffe. I thought you would demand to go and that I would lose-”

 

Emma reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. “I’m here. You don’t have to think about it.” She rose to leave, she felt overwhelmed and like she needed to clear her head.

 

“Emma,” he interrupted her exit with a soft call. “Will you come back to my tent tonight?”

 

She stared at him, trying to parse his words, trying to work out how to close the mouth that had dropped open in shock. She saw the range of emotions play out on his face as well: confusion at her reaction, then shock, then embarrassment. He blushed and his hand moved to his neck. “I didn’t mean- Maker’s breath! To read. I was hoping we could continue reading together. I- I miss it. I understand if you don’t-”

 

“I miss it too. I will come back.”

 

\--

 

“A word?” Solas inclined his head, inviting her to follow him. Emma did so nervously, cautious after multiple days of silence in her dreams.

 

It was, for a reason she couldn’t quite nail down, surprising to her that he brought her into his cabin. An inner voice screamed at her to get out while she sat and watched him close the door.

 

He brought her a cup, heated with the wave of his hand. “It is my understanding that you enjoy tea.”

 

“I do,” she took it cautiously, growing more confused by the moment. “I did not think you did, however.”

 

“I do not,” he agreed. “It keeps me awake and I prefer not to drink it unless absolutely necessary- which it occasionally is. Also it’s bitter.” His face contorted into a look of distaste and Emma laughed, momentarily forgetting her trepidation.

 

“I have been considering your situation, shira’lan,” he continued. Emma raised an eyebrow as she sipped her tea, unwilling to speak until he had out with it. “I have been conversing with the Tevinter mage-”

 

“Dorian.”

 

He shot her a sharp look. “Dorian -about the time magic that he and Magister Alexius had been working on. Evidently, it only became able to move past theoretical application and be wielded after the Breach opened. You came from the Breach.” He appeared slightly eager and pleased with himself, eyeing her up to see if she was making the same connections he was. 

 

“Continue,” she said flatly.

 

“I believe that you may have been brought her by a similar magic, that you are from the future.”

 

“Come again?” She looked at him aghast.  _ Where did he get that from?  _

 

He made a noise indicating irritation. “Think about it.”

 

“I think I would prefer for you to explain your reasoning first.”

 

“It would explain why the place you are from is so unlike anything we have seen. You have tools that are nothing like our own. No spirit I have spoken to has heard of your ‘America’. And, of course, you know the future. I believe that rather than seeing visions, you are from another time and you are somehow still connected to the Fade of your own time period. Spirits cannot tell the future but perhaps spirits from your own time are showing you visions of the past that have yet to occur in our time. All of the elements line up. Even your knowledge of this time’s religion when it is not practiced in your own time.”

 

“Would I not know that this was the past from history books?”

 

He waved away the question. “History is frequently lost, or transformed so much that it is no longer recognizable.”

 

_ Huh. Well I’ll be damned.  _ “It’s as good an explanation as any, Solas, though I’m not sure there is any way to know for sure.”

 

“If you would grant me access to your mind, I could try and communicate with a spirit from-”

 

_ Shit.  _ “No.”

 

“No?”

 

“It is too dangerous. Knowing the future... It is a terrible burden, Solas. You could learn things that would change… everything.”  _ Also you could learn the truth. _

 

His eyes flashed with anger. “So instead you hold onto this knowledge and parcel it out as you see fit. You must think highly of yourself to believe you can handle such power,” he sneered.

 

“No, Solas, I don’t. I think I’m probably one of the worst choices to have this knowledge, but I don’t have a choice. I have it whether I want it or not which means the choice of what to do with that knowledge is mine as well. I would gladly give away the responsibility to someone better suited but I will not spread that knowledge across multiple minds for the sake of curiosity. If I am from the future or if I am not, it does not change the task ahead of us.”

 

There was a long silence as he regarded her thoughtfully. “You are correct, of course. I apologize. My outburst was unworthy of me. You prove wise beyond your years, da’len.”

 

Emma lifted the corner of her lips in an amused smile. “I am not so very young.”  _ Only compared to you. _

 

“You are when compared to myself.” 

 

Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise. The answer was surprisingly close to honesty. Hopefully he took her startled look as related to the fact that he does not appear to be more than a decade older than her. “Just how old are you, Solas?”

 

“These days, I feel ancient,” he responded, deftly avoiding the question.

 

She faked a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Cullen?”
> 
> He had his forehead resting on one hand while the other gripped a quill, intently scratching away. He jerked, startled at her voice. “What are you doing here?”
> 
> Emma stopped, confused. “You invited me?”


	45. Foreshadowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Just like that?”
> 
> “No. Not just like that. You don’t know how much it meant that you didn’t argue about staying behind while Sera pretends to be you in Redcliffe. I thought you would demand to go and that I would lose-”
> 
> Emma reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. “I’m here. You don’t have to think about it.” She rose to leave, she felt overwhelmed and like she needed to clear her head.
> 
> “Emma,” he interrupted her exit with a soft call. “Will you come back to my tent tonight?”
> 
> \--
> 
> “I believe that you may have been brought her by a similar magic, that you are from the future.”
> 
> “Come again?” She looked at him aghast. Where did he get that from? 
> 
> He made a noise indicating irritation. “Think about it.”

Emma looked at the three advisors nervously. She was about the take the biggest risk she’d even considered since she arrived in Thedas. A niggling feeling of guilt over going behind Maxwell’s back wouldn’t leave her but she also felt confident that he needed to continue without knowing.

 

“We have to prepare Haven for an attack.”

 

Cullen’s brows furrowed with concern. “We are as prepared as we can reasonably be. Our troops are gaining in ability daily. We have active patrols, a high wall, trebuchets. We are not unguarded.”

 

“We are not prepared enough for this.”

 

“Explain what you have seen, Emma.” Leliana leaned forward with interest.

 

“The night after Maxwell closes the Breach, Haven will be attacked by a huge army of templars augmented with red lyrium.”

 

“Maker have mercy,” Cullen breathed.

 

Josephine merely stared in shock for a few moments.

 

Leliana was, of course, the first to recover. “What is their purpose?”

 

“They want Maxwell, or rather, his mark. The power in it was being used by a Tevinter magister calling himself the Elder One. He wants to ascend to godhood, more or less, but something went wrong and that’s how we ended up with the Breach and Maxwell got his mark. The Elder One will try to destroy Maxwell in Redcliffe and when he fails, he will march an army here to try again.”

 

The advisors exchanged glances among themselves. “Then we must evacuate Haven,” Josephine offered.

 

Emma shook her head. “We must be here to close the Breach. We also can’t risk being attacked somewhere even more vulnerable. We have an advantage here. We know when they are going to attack and from where. We plan.”

 

“The Templars are a well-trained army. Based on what Varric has reported, I’m don’t wish to know what they will be like when using red lyrium. Our recruits are improving immensely but I’m not sure I like those odds.” 

 

“They will come over the mountains. I’ve already seen... You had us use the trebuchets to cause avalanches and bury some of their forces.”

 

Cullen nodded. “That makes sense. Use what resources we have to control the battle.”

 

“We’ll gather the civilians in the Chantry. It is the safest place for them if fighting makes it into the village.” Leliana was scratching down notes, having brought forward a map of Haven.

 

“We cannot order civilians into a single building because we expect an attack. There will be panic. By the time the battle occurs, emotions will be far too high to expect them to calmly wait it out. People will run, will get hurt,” Josephine asserted.

 

“We hold a service.” Leliana tapped the table thoughtfully. “To thank the Maker and Andraste for closing the Breach.”

 

Emma nodded, glad she had thoughtful minds planning with her- glad no one was telling her she must be wrong. “Roderick knows of a passage out the back of the Chantry, away from where the forces will be. We should prepare in case we need to evacuate and travel through the mountains.” She held her breath, hoping they would see the sense in this. She had considered it thoroughly and had decided not to tell about the dragon unless absolutely necessary. The element of surprise and of thinking all may be lost, of the Herald sacrificing themselves so everyone else could get away… This seemed important so that Maxwell would be made Inquisitor and the stories would bring many flocking to their banner. It was a gamble, but a gamble either way.

 

Josephine began scratching on her board. “A secret passage? Yes, I believe that would be wise. We will prepare as best we can.”

 

“I will have the troops fortify the walls to slow advancement through the village. We will also need to protect our watchtowers.” Cullen was muttering to himself.

 

Leliana was already making plans to see how she could undermine the Templars before they arrived. Emma watched the flurry of planning move beyond her and breathed a sigh of relief. She had done what she could.

 

\--

 

“Cullen?”

 

He had his forehead resting on one hand while the other gripped a quill, intently scratching away. He jerked, startled at her voice. “What are you doing here?”

 

Emma stopped, confused. “You invited me?”

 

“That’s right. I’m sorry, I’m afraid my mind is a bit overwhelmed and I suppose I forgot. I’ve been thinking and working rather intensely.”

 

“All the more reason to stop for the night,” she smiled.

 

“I- I can’t. I’m truly sorry. I have so much to prepare now. I wish-” Emma had moved to his side and stopped him, putting a hand on either side of his face.

 

“Cullen, stop. I have seen this battle coming. Even not knowing what was going to happen, you manage to get so many out safely. You are a good leader and you can do this, but not if you burn yourself out with stress and overwork.”

 

He sighed and opened his mouth with a protest on his lips.

 

“No. I won’t hear it. Now based on this sorry sight, I’m pretty sure you haven’t eaten so I’m going to go fetch some food. You have until I get back to finish up what you’re working on and then you’re done for the night.” She darted out of the tent before he could argue.

 

It was late enough that the kitchens would be closed so Emma trotted off to the tavern to procure something. “Emma! Come help me earn back some coin from this cheating bastard.” Blackwall was smiling even as he threw in the accusation.

 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Hero. I never cheat.”

 

“You’re a damned liar, rogue.”

 

Emma snorted and turned away from their conversation. “Could I get a plate of whatever is available? On a tray would be great. I’ve got to take it out.”

 

The blonde behind the bar smiled. “I’d love to, sweets, but Flissa gets mighty upset when the dishware goes missing.”

 

“Tell her if it doesn’t come back in the morning she can put it on my tab. Actually, better yet, tell her to put it on Commander Rutherford’s tab,” she winked.

 

“You’re bringing this to the Commander?” Emma nodded her confirmation. The woman gave her a solid look over. It was probably the first time she’d ever taken notice of Emma, for all the times she’d been there and she shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. Suddenly she smiled. “Well, if it’s for the Commander, I can’t possibly say no. That man does not take good enough care of himself.”

 

“You’re telling me,” Emma laughed as the woman turned to get things ready.

 

Loaded up with a full tray of food and drink, she pushed her way out the door. She heard Blackwall yelling after her. “Hey- You were supposed to help me!”

 

Back in Cullen’s tent, she plunked the tray directly on top of his work. “Time, my dear Commander, is up.”

 

“Emma, I really must-”

 

“Eat and take care of yourself? Yes, I know.”

 

“You aren’t going to let me be, are you?”

 

“Not a chance. Now eat.”

 

Cullen begrudgingly tore a chunk of bread and stuffed it in his mouth, looking at her like a petulant child. Emma moved over to his bed and began pulling off her shoes before swinging her feet up onto it and curling into a comfortable position. She felt rather than saw Cullen watching her. When she looked up, he was staring at her intently. “Sorry, is this not okay? I just thought it would be more comfortable than the chair.”

 

“I- No. It’s fine. Of course. I want you to be comfortable here.” He looked down, mumbling the last words into his plate.

 

Emma smiled and opened the book, retreating to a few paragraphs before she had noticed him snoring last time and hoping it was close enough to the last thing he remembered. When he finished eating, Cullen stood and gestured to Emma to keep going. She tried to focus on the words and not on watching him as he moved to his armour stand and began pulling off the uniform and hanging it piece by piece. She definitely did not watch when he moved to a small table with a bowl and splashed water on his face. She did not watch when he sat beside her on the bed, a bit stiffly. She didn’t notice when his head started to sag, or when he rested it on a hand.

 

“Do you want to lay down?” She asked, because she clearly had not noticed any of those things.

 

“That would be preferable, thank you. I find my body suffers more on days when I have to sit and do paperwork than on the ones where I am out training and moving.” Emma was about to unfold herself and get up when Cullen leaned over and rested his head in her lap.

 

She heard a squeak of surprise escape her, though she wasn’t conscious of having made the noise. Cullen bolted back upright. “Sorry! That wasn’t what you meant at all, was it?” He looked at her with such panic that she burst out laughing. 

 

“It’s not, but I don’t mind. Make yourself comfy.” He warily lowered himself again and Emma shifted the book into one hand, gently resting the other against his head and drawing little circles with her fingertips. Cullen turned, laying flat on his back and folding his hands on his chest. Emma’s hand shifted with the movement and she was stroking his hair back from his forehead. Cullen hummed lightly.

 

“I like it when you do that. It feels nice.”

 

Emma stopped reading. There were so many things she wanted to say.  _ We should do this more. You need more tenderness in your life. I like doing this too.  _ There were also a myriad of things that she definitely didn’t want to say but couldn’t keep out of her head regardless.  _ I could make you feel nice in more ways. Did you notice we’re both in your bed together and fully dressed? Seems a waste. Let’s find a fun way to mess up your hair even more. _

 

Instead, she said nothing. She continued reading and trailing soft fingers through his hair, hoping her actions would say what she couldn’t quite form words for. When the chapter finished, she closed the book but Cullen didn’t move. She looked down, thinking he’d fallen asleep again but his eyes were open, staring off into space.

 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” She tapped on his forehead teasingly.

 

“I find I am hoping for more of these moments.” Cullen sat up quickly, took her hand into his. She stared down at her tiny hand, swallowed in his much larger ones. “Emma, I want you to know, this attack that’s coming. I will do  _ everything  _ in my power to keep you safe.”

 

She felt her heart pounding in her throat. “I know.” She didn’t lift her eyes, scared of seeing what was reflected in his. She swallowed. “I should go.”

 

“Of course.” He didn’t let go of her hand.

 

“Cullen, there’s something else I need to tell you.” She had intended to tell him another time. It just came blurting out on its own. She hadn’t really meant to ruin the moment.

 

He frowned at her, confused at her change in tone. 

 

“The person leading the corruption of the templars, the person who will be leading their army, you know him. Raleigh Samson?”

 

The change in expression was immediate, from a curious confusion to a barely restrained fury, punctuated by incredulity. “I see,” was all he said.

 

“I’m sorry, Cullen. I know you were roommates and it was under your approval that he was reinstated to the Templars.”

 

“Yes,” he gritted out the word.

 

Emma pressed a palm into his cheek and squeezed the hand that was holding hers. “Listen, Cullen. There is nothing that could have stopped this. It doesn’t matter what your decision was back in Kirkwall, it still would have happened, okay? I’ve seen that.”

 

He nodded, some of the tension in his face releasing but mostly still stiff and furrowed. Part of her wished she hadn’t told him, that she could backtrack and hold that moment between them until after the attack on Haven, but it was already done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Nope,” he announced as she attempted to enter the mess hall. “You and I are going to talk somewhere private.” He gestured for her to follow him and she did with a quizzical look. 
> 
> “Okay, what is going on?” He asked once they’d moved far away enough from anyone else.
> 
> “You’ll have to be more specific with your question.” She had a niggling feeling that this was not good but, who knows, he might have been looking for gossip.


	46. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “What’s going on in that head of yours?” She tapped on his forehead teasingly.
> 
> “I- I find I am hoping for more of these moments.” Cullen sat up quickly, took her hand into his. She stared down at her tiny hand, swallowed in his much larger ones. “Emma, I want you to know, this attack that’s coming. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”
> 
> She felt her heart pounding in her throat. “I know.” She didn’t lift her eyes, scared of seeing what was reflected in his. She swallowed. “I should go.”
> 
> “Of course.” He didn’t let go of her hand.
> 
> “Cullen, there’s something else I need to tell you.”

“Morning, Visions. Good breakfast?”

 

“It’s a bit rubbish, actually,” she whispered. “I miss food from home. Of course, I didn’t have to feed an entire army so I could be a little more picky about my diet.”

 

“Speaking of home, Solas was saying he thinks you are from the future?”

 

Emma shrugged. She didn’t want to lie to Varric, but she had no proper reason to dispute the assertion. “Is he just going around telling everybody his thoughts?”

 

“Nah. He thinks it may be best to leave you a mystery. For a travelling apostate elf, he thinks through The Game almost as well as Josephine. He’s hiding something, that’s for certain.”

 

Emma smiled knowingly before quickly shifting her expression to a smile of disbelief. “Sure. A regular prince of the Orlesian court, that one. So, why’d he tell you if he thinks it’s best kept a secret?”

 

Varric winked at her. “I have my own games to play, Visions. Don’t underestimate me.”

 

An indignant snort sounded from behind them. “Definitely do not. This one has more tricks up his sleeve than a Crow.”

 

“Ah, don’t be sore. You’ll have a chance to win it back soon.”

 

Emma listened to their banter as she ate, any ability to be content undermined by the sense of unease caused by hiding knowledge of the upcoming attack and Varric’s sideways glances at her that said he knew something was up.

 

\--

 

Emma was surprised when she approached the training ground to find Rylen and Lysette training recruits but no Cullen. “Overseeing fortifications,” Rylen called to her, pointing towards the walls where he was directing a group of workers on strengthening Haven’s defences.

 

She could almost feel the energy and motivation from him as he assigned different jobs, referred back to his plans, moved to help others hauling supplies where they were needed. It was nice to see him neither hunched over his desk, nor snapping irritably whenever someone failed to use their shield efficiently. Of course, those little worry lines were ever-present. She could practically see them from a hundred metres away. 

 

Cullen strode over to her purposefully. “I have men doing maintenance on the trebuchets and I am securing the walls. With a little luck, we’ll be able to control this thing.”

 

“Is anyone suspicious?”

 

“A bit.” He smiled. “I told them they were getting sloppy and making mistakes born out of too much repetition. From now on, rotating shifts off patrol or training duty.”

 

Emma nodded. “You look like you slept well.”

 

“I suppose I would.” He looked thoughtful. “I must return to work, however.”

 

“Of course.” She waved him off, watching for a few more moments. There was something a little different about him today that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

 

\--

 

“Darling, we have hardly spent any time together since my arrival. One would almost think you were avoiding me.”

 

Emma looked around nervously. The mage had come out of nowhere. How was she even supposed to speak to someone like Vivienne? “I’m not  _ avoiding  _ you, Madame de Fer, but I must admit you’re a little intimidating and perhaps I haven’t been seeking you out, exactly?”

 

“Now, now, dear. I insist you call me Vivienne. I believe we could be good friends, you and I. Of course, if you are to move in finer circles then you will need to take my advice regarding dress. I’m designing some ideas for you. You simply cannot continue to dress like a Fereldan commoner. How our dear Herald came to choose these pieces for you in my great city is beyond me. You must exude mystery and class, my dear. That is how you will help the Inquisition gain prestige and interest. My lover, Duke Bastien de Ghislain, -which, do let me know if you see him in any of your precious dreams, yes?- will gladly send whatever we have commissioned for you. It is such a simple thing, you see.”

 

Emma almost didn’t catch it. Vivienne was rampaging forward in the conversation with such determination that it was a tiny drop in a downpour of words. If she didn’t know about Bastien’s fate and how Vivienne reacted, she certainly would have missed it: A conversation entirely constructed for the excuse of asking about her partner’s fate. Her heart softened a bit for the woman in that moment.

 

She took a deep breath. “I appreciate your concern, Mada- Vivienne. Certainly, I am not from here and I have taken to dressing for comfort rather than style. Perhaps that is a conversation worth having at some point. And, of course, I will happily take note of any mentions of this Duke Bastien in my visions and inform you.” She smiled, hoping she had managed the conversation adequately.

 

“Thank you, dear. You know, I believe Josephine may not be completely wrong about teaching you the Game. You do prove quite amenable. It’s possible we can mould you into something useful.” With that, she swept away and Emma avoided rubbing her cheek where the backhanded compliment had smacked her.

 

\--

 

Varric was waiting for her at lunch. 

 

“Nope,” he announced as she attempted to enter the mess hall. “You and I are going to talk somewhere private.” He gestured for her to follow him and she did with a quizzical look. 

 

“Okay, what is going on?” He asked once they’d moved far away enough from anyone else.

 

“You’ll have to be more specific with your question.” She had a niggling feeling that this was not good but with Varric, who knows, he might have been looking for gossip.

 

“You were completely distracted at breakfast, which might have been nothing except that I have eyes and you’re not the only one acting strange. I’ve seen over a dozen ravens go out this afternoon alone. Curly’s suddenly started worrying about Haven’s defences. Ruffles is moving large quantities of supplies about, and Roderick hasn’t berated or bossed a single person today. He’s praying like his life depends on it. Something has changed and I want to know what it is.”

 

“Varric, you can’t tell anyone.” She didn’t consider lying to him for a moment. He saw too much for her to get away with it and she wouldn’t risk their friendship to keep this from him.

 

“Of course. You can trust me.” He shifted expectantly.

 

“There is going to be an attack and you’re  _ really  _ not going to like it. In fact, you might want to sit down.”

 

“I’m fine, Visions.”

 

“Do you remember Corypheus? Ancient Tevinter magister held captive by the Wardens?”

 

“Sure. Hawke killed him.”

 

Emma shook her head. “He merely took on another form. He’s still alive and he is trying to become a god. He’s behind the explosion, the conscription of the mages in Redcliffe…”

 

“That’s not poss-” He looked at Emma. “Shit.”

 

“That’s not all.”

 

“Just my luck.”

 

“He’s controlling the Templars by dosing them with red lyrium.”

 

“Shit!” He hissed it this time.

 

“And he’s going to lead them here to attack after Maxwell escapes his trap in Redcliffe.”

 

Varric paced back and forth a bit.

 

“Does Max know?”

 

Emma shook her head. “He can’t. Our biggest advantage is that we know the timing of his attack. If we tell him, we risk changing the timeline and I might not see how that changes things.”

 

“Well, shit.”

 

“Is that all you can say, Varric? Shit? Come on.”

 

“How can I help?”

 

Emma heaved a sigh of relief and she collapsed against him in a heavy embrace. “Thank you, Varric.”

 

He patted her back. “Yeah, okay. I’ve got you.”

 

In the mess tent, organized chaos made up the lunch service. It seemed like the entire Inquisition was there at the same time - except the Chargers. They didn’t take their meals without ale and they had the coin to do it. 

 

“Andraste’s plump, round ass is it busy in here. Look, even Josephine and Vivienne are gracing us with their presence.” 

 

Emma laughed. One of them definitely looked more entertained by the chaos of eating among the soldiers than the other. Amazingly, even Cullen was sitting for a meal with Rylen and positively shovelling down the food.

 

“Are fortifications really that much more energy intensive than training and sparring?” she joked as she and Varric took up seats across from them. Despite the busyness, it seemed many were reticent to join their stern commander for a meal.

 

“This might be the first time I’ve ever actually seen you eat, Curly. I was beginning to think you were a golem.”

 

“Aye, I didn’t have to bring him here on a lead or anything,” Rylen rejoined.

 

Cullen paused to scowl at the lot of them before digging back in.

 

“Don’t think we’ve really been properly introduced, lass.” Rylen extended his hand across the table. When Emma grasped it, he leaned forward and kissed her knuckles. “Knight-Captain Rylen at your service. I understand our commander here has done a shabby job of keeping you out of trouble.” He winked. “I’d love to join you for some trouble sometime. I bet could help you find fun ways to keep on in secret.”

 

Emma put on a concerned face. “But what if we were  caught? I’m not sure my pouting will extend far enough to keep you from punishment. I simply can’t have that on my conscience.” Cullen snorted into his plate.

 

“So Curly, what’s with the chaos today?”

 

“Josephine shortened the lunch service so kitchen staff can focus on making preserves for increased scout patrols.” The lie rolled smoothly off his tongue but he flicked a look at Emma that confirmed it wasn’t for the patrols, but in case they needed to abandon Haven. “As we spread further, seeking more rifts for the Herald to close, we will need increased rations for the road.”

 

Emma shot a sidelong glance towards Varric, concerned he would call out the lie, but of course he was considerably more astute than that. He was easy to underestimate and she kept falling for it. 

 

“Raven for you, Ser.” A messenger stood behind Cullen’s right shoulder, offering a letter.

 

He took it and unrolled it before nodding to himself and tucking it away. He looked at Emma and offered a small smile. “Our letter was received. Ser Barris is coming to Haven with a small group of Templars.”

 

Emma closed her eyes in relief and smiled. 

 

“Thank the Maker,” Rylen stated. “Knew I made the right choice following this one during the war. Between warring with the mages and abandoning the Chantry, I’d thought they all went crazy.”

 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Emma sighed.

 

“Don’t want to. Just want to focus on doing what good I can from here.”

 

“Good man,” Varric raised his water cup in a toast.

 

She looked at Cullen. He had finished eating and was watching her. “To doing what we can from here,” she said and raised her own glass to clink with her table companions. Something was unnerving her though. She looked back at Cullen and for some reason it hit her in that moment when it hadn’t before. Perhaps it was because they had just been speaking about the Templars, maybe it was that she was close enough now to see that his pupils were dilated. His strange behaviour suddenly made sense, a puzzle piece slotting in and completing the picture. Her hands flew to her mouth on instinct. “Excuse me,” she mumbled and started stumbling her way through tables and out the door.

 

She needed fresh air.

 

“Emma.” A hand grabbed her wrist. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

 

She looked up into warm, amber eyes and trembled. 

 

“Are you taking lyrium again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Cullen,” she shook her head, trying not to cry. “There will always be a reason to take it. There are always lives at stake. Don’t let the world take this from you.”
> 
> He sat down beside her, staring out into the tent. “It was a hopeless dream. It’s been this way since I was a teenager. I’d accepted it a long time ago. I thought that maybe it would be worth trying but… I was mistaken.”
> 
> “No.”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: No cheekiness, only a heartfelt acknowledgement that I know this was a rough ending. The next chapter will be rough too. I promise it will eventually turn around. This is not the kind of story that ends without a happy ending. Cullen always deserves his happy ending. :)


	47. Lyrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She looked back at Cullen and for some reason it hit her in that moment when it hadn’t before. Perhaps it was because they had just been speaking about the Templars, maybe it was that she was close enough now to see that his pupils were dilated. His strange behaviour suddenly made sense, a puzzle piece fitting in and completing the picture. Her hands flew to her mouth on instinct. “Excuse me,” she mumbled and started stumbling her way through tables and out the door.
> 
> She needed fresh air.
> 
> “Emma.” A hand grabbed her wrist. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
> 
> She looked up into warm, amber eyes and trembled. 
> 
> “Are you taking lyrium again?”

“Why?” she whispered.

 

They had moved to the command tent, the need for privacy immediately apparent after she had asked her question. The look on his face crushed her. It was affirmation enough.

 

She was sitting on his bed. “Why?” She repeated.

 

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance about the choice. “We have a huge trial coming. The Inquisition needs me at my best. There are lives at stake.” There it was: confirmation. She had caused this by messing with the timeline. Cullen’s recovery was a sacrifice in trying to save lives.

 

“Cullen,” she shook her head, trying not to cry. “There will always be a reason to take it. There are always lives at stake. Don’t let the world take this from you.”

 

He sat down beside her, staring out into the tent. “It was a hopeless dream. It’s been this way since I was a teenager... I accepted it a long time ago. I thought that maybe it would be worth trying but… I was mistaken.”

 

“No.”

 

“It is what it is, Emma.”

 

“No. That’s complete horseshit. Listen to me, Cullen. You  _ know _ what happens to Templars who keep taking it. You’ve already been on it for, what, almost twenty years? I can’t watch that happen to you.”

 

He looked down, and rested his hands on his knees. “I won’t lose you because I was selfishly trying to change this.”

 

“And I won’t lose you when you’re standing right in front of me.”

 

“Enough, Emma. I’ve made my choice.”

 

“No. You made a choice when you joined the Inquisition. Don’t give it up. You can serve the Inquisition  _ and _ break the hold that lyrium has on you. I... I’ve seen you succeed.”

 

His eyes darted to hers and back to his hands. He swallowed. “You never said.”

 

“Because you can do it on your own, without the promise that it will work. You’re so strong, I just wanted you to have that.”

 

He nodded slowly, sliding a hand sideways to hold hers. “Thank you. I’ll think on it. This war won’t last forever…”

 

“Don’t wait until then. You could have something wonderful waiting for you when it is.”

 

He slowly raised his eyes to hers. Nothing like the furtive glance from before, this one was ernest and searching. “Could I?”

 

Emma felt the heat creeping up her neck and into her face. Was he asking what she felt like he was asking?

 

“Ser, Sister Nightingale has requested you review these reports.”

 

Cullen sighed, a noise filled with exasperation. “Yes. Thank you, Jim.” He held his hand out for the papers.

 

“I should go,” Emma mumbled as she stood. “Think on what I’ve said.”

 

“I will.”

 

\--

 

Emma had never felt more useless. Each day she found herself doing something completely different, finding menial tasks in which she was really only an extra pair of hands: bringing water to workers, chopping vegetables, organizing paperwork, brushing horses and mucking stables. She could not do nothing while everyone else was expected to step up, however. Years of education and what had it brought her?  _ Not that I could have predicted being here,  _ she reminded herself. 

 

She avoided Cullen during the daytime, seeing his motivation and energy only reminded her of what was being sacrificed to attain it. Night was a different story. When she didn’t visit him in the command tent that first night after she learned of his relapse, he came to her little hut and she let him in to read another chapter. He came back the next night, and the next, and she always let him in. He would sit respectfully on the opposite wall from her and watch her as she read, a tiny smile on his lips. In those moments, she almost forgot about everything else.

 

Days offered a solid contrast. She forgot nothing. Every time a raven came in, she waited for the news. What if she found herself in the wrong timeline? What if she changed the timeline even more? When she was summoned to the war room, her heart hammered loudly. When Leliana informed them that Maxwell was on his way back with the magister in chains and an army of mages behind him, she struggled to remain upright. 

 

“Emma! Are you alright?” Josephine’s concern was palpable. 

 

“I am only relieved and… I’m afraid I momentarily forgot how to operate my legs.”

 

“I imagine seeing so many things means the unknown leaves you feeling particularly off balance.” Leliana regarded her with appraising eyes.

 

“Not normally.” Emma offered a shaky laugh. “It is simply that the reality of failure was so devastating to people I care about.”

 

“You have held yourself with strength and dignity through that uncertainty and you should be proud.”

 

Emma stared back at the spymaster for a brief moment. “Thank you,” she managed.

 

“It says here that he offered to bring in the mages as allies-- as equal partners under their own supervision.” Josephine was reviewing the correspondence. Emma felt a flutter of pride.

 

“He can’t be serious. Just recently many of them were running around the Hinterlands terrifying the locals and creating a refugee crisis. I am surprised that Cassandra allowed this.” Cullen frowned.

 

“I’m sure he will explain his reasoning on his return.”

 

Emma went straight to Varric after the meeting, tearing into his room. “He’s coming back! They’re okay.”

 

He put down his quill. “See? Told you there was nothing to worry about.” 

 

“Yeah. You did.” She flopped down on his bed. “I’m sorry for being such a pain this past week.”

 

“This past week? You’re interrupting my writing right now.”

 

She grinned at the ceiling. “Yeah. I am. What are you working on?”

 

“You can find out when it’s published like every other fan.”

 

“Does that make it a secret?” She laughed and moved over to his desk. “I love a good secret.”

 

Varric was collecting the papers together but as they were being moved, Emma spotted her name. Her hand jolted forward and plucked the paper out of his hands. “Are you  _ writing _ about me?” She scanned her eyes over the page finding the passage where her name had appeared. “Emma Bennett was an enigma according to almost everyone who met her,” she read. “They couldn’t put their finger on it but, when they walked away, nearly everybody had a quizzical smile on their faces. 

 

“Well, that’s complete nugshit,” she laughed.

 

“It is _not_ complete nugshit,” Varric grinned as he snatched the parchment back. “It is very, nearly, almost the reality. I can count the exceptions on one hand.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re putting me into one of your stories. I’m really not that interesting.”

 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Visions. You’re interesting enough, and you’re an important part of this Inquisition. The story would be incomplete without you. Besides, whatever you’re missing in dramatic flair, I’ll simply craft myself.”

 

A loud bell rang to announce the arrival of people to the village. Surely Maxwell could not have followed the raven so closely? He’d scarcely been gone two weeks. She and Varric shared a look. It was not a bell announcing an attack. Perhaps a group of refugees? An envoy from some interested nobles?

 

They exited Varric’s room together. Down the road, a small group made its way towards Haven. The horses were plodding slowly and stablehands rushed past with water and bags of oats and cleaning tools for their shoes. Some of their riders looked like they might fall from their mounts. As they came closer, their armour became identifiable via the fiery sword emblazoned on the chest plates. Templars. Fourteen men in a sorry state.

 

Emma watched anxiously as they dismounted, a third of them heading straight to the healer’s tent. This was not what she had hoped for, or even expected. She had hoped for a solid contingent of Templars to ride in like their own army, proudly adding their ranks and legitimacy to the Inquisition. She had expected a few dozen defectors to arrive with relief and energy for sealing the Breach. This was devastating. The results of decisions made laid bare before her. The weight of it caused her throat to constrict. She reached out a hand to Varric’s shoulder to steady herself.

 

“You okay, Visions?”

 

“This is my fault,” she whispered. “I should have done more. Why did I think a letter would save them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She was sitting in the road. Again. It had at some point shifted from being a spot of protest to one of comfort. She could see what was coming and think. The sound of heavy boots crunching in the hard dirt approached. “You doing alright?”
> 
> She was slightly surprised to hear Blackwall’s voice. They hadn’t seen much of each other since the Storm Coast, and it was primarily around other people. Distantly, she wasn’t surprised at all. The sight of her, red faced, knees bent, and arms wrapped around herself, would have been too much to ignore. “It isn’t like I thought it would be,” she said as he sat beside her. “I thought it would be all dragons and drinking and romance. But it’s not, is it? It’s pain and death and uncertainty.”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Sorry about all the angst. Things have been getting dark up in here- but do not fear, the fluff will have its day again.   
> Thanks everyone for all your lovely comments and kudos! Seriously, this is just the loveliest community ever and I'm so pleased I joined!


	48. Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma watched anxiously as they dismounted, a third of them heading straight to the healer’s tent. This was not what she had hoped for, or even expected. She had hoped for a solid contingent of Templars to ride in like their own army, proudly adding their ranks and legitimacy to the Inquisition. She had expected a few dozen defectors to arrive with relief and energy for sealing the Breach. This was devastating. The results of decisions made laid bare before her. The weight of it caused her throat to constrict. She reached out a hand to Varric’s shoulder to steady herself.
> 
> “You okay, Visions?”
> 
> “This is my fault,” she whispered. “I should have done more. Why did I think a letter would save them?”

Emma was the last to enter the war room, a reflection of her own reluctance. She wasn’t sure how she could look Ser Barris in the face but it would have to be done eventually.

 

“Knight-Templar Barris, may I introduce Lady Bennett?” 

 

He smiled as he took her hand, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They held a weary despondency that would be difficult to dislodge. “Thank you, my lady. Your words saved my life.”

 

Emma shook her head, a hand hovering in front of her mouth. It's presence somehow formed a barrier that held back the worst of her distress.

 

“Perhaps you would begin your report now, Ser Barris.” Leliana saved her from forming a response.

 

“Yes. Of course, Sister Nightingale. After receiving Lady Bennett and Commander Rutherford’s letters, I began to speak quietly of my intentions to leave with a few close friends- those I felt I could trust. We formulated a plan and determined to include anyone we felt would keep our confidence. We… erred. Someone informed the leadership of our intentions and we were cut off in our escape. I do not believe they intended to bring us back to the Order. They intended to kill us from the outset. We had to fight our way out. We lost twenty-two good soldiers. We rode here as fast as we could, terrified they would follow and end things for the rest of us.”

 

“Do you have reason to believe they may have followed you all the way here?”

 

“It is possible, but unlikely that they would spare the men for simple reconnaissance. If they had followed, we would be dead. With any luck, they have no idea we are here as the destination was kept secret until after we successfully departed.”

 

“Thank you, Ser Barris. I imagine you will want to rest but a scribe will attend you shortly for a more complete report.”

 

The Templar nodded and left the room. A heavy silence remained.

 

\--

 

She was sitting in the road. Again. It had at some point shifted from being a spot of protest to one of comfort. She could see what was coming and think. The sound of heavy boots crunching in the hard dirt approached. “You doing alright?”

 

She was slightly surprised to hear Blackwall’s voice. They hadn’t seen much of each other since the Storm Coast, and it was primarily around other people. Distantly, she wasn’t surprised at all. The sight of her, red faced, knees bent, and arms wrapped around herself, would have been too much to ignore. “It isn’t like I thought it would be,” she said as he sat beside her. “I thought it would be all dragons and drinking and romance. But it’s not, is it? It’s pain and death and uncertainty.”

 

“Come here,” he rumbled, wrapping and arm around her and pulling her into his side. “It’s both. Even in war there is great love and friendship. It doesn’t have to be only one way.”

 

She nodded into his shoulder. “Does it ever get any easier?”

 

“Which part?”

 

“Bearing the weight of decisions you’ve made and harm you’ve done.”

 

“Easier? Not really. But you get better at carrying it.”

 

“I want to go home.”

 

He nodded.

 

“Twenty-two people are dead because of me. I was so sure. If I don’t convince them to leave they’ll all die or go crazy from red lyrium. That’s what I said, but the truth is, I don’t really know. Maybe they would have made it if they hadn’t tried some desperate escape because of my letter. Maybe-”

 

“Those men knew what they were risking when they decided to leave and they decided it was worth it. You didn’t lie to them. You didn’t promise anything simple. You outlined what you knew and what you thought might be best and they made the decision. Fourteen men who probably would have died are here now. They’re safe. There’s both good and bad to all the decisions we make.”

 

She sniffled, half tempted to blow her nose into his tunic like a child. “Thank you, Thom,” she whispered, acknowledging the parts of his past that she’d pulled on for comfort.

 

“Any time. I’m always here for you, Emma.” He pulled her head in and placed a kiss upon her forehead and she gave him a small, grateful smile. His eyes flickered to her lips and he leaned forward, moving a hand to Emma’s face and kissing her. It carried a tenderness and fervor she hadn’t felt in a long time. She closed her eyes and let out a little sigh of contentment before she pulled away.

 

“Blackwall… We decided not to do this. Just friends, remember?”

 

“We did,” he acknowledged. “I apologise.” He looked ahead, staring down the road. “I hate seeing you hurting. It was an instinct to try and soothe that. The wrong one, obviously.”

 

Emma wrapped her hand in his. “I love that you care that much… and talking to you did help.”

 

He smiled. “I’m glad. Maybe next time I’ll drag Varric here to do this though.”

 

“He  _ is _ much less likely to accidentally kiss me.”

 

“Could still become awkward. He might get overwhelmed and kiss that crossbow.” 

 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Emma laughed.

 

\--

 

Emma went to the tavern. She wasn’t certain she was up for the chaos of the condensed lunch hour at the mess and she almost definitely needed a drink, despite her mood being significantly improved thanks to Blackwall. The Chargers were there, of course, and even without Bull present their laughter and bullshitting filled the air. It made her smile. 

 

Sitting alone, Ser Barris was nursing a mug of something and looking miserable. She was torn between protecting her own emotions and the sense that she should do something to comfort him. She eventually gestured to Flissa for food and took a chair across from him. “How are you holding up?”

 

He nodded, but in a manner that communicated ‘not well at all’.

 

“I am so sorry, Delrin.”

 

He looked up at her casual use of his name. “You are unexpected. You know, there are rumours regarding you in every village across Orlais and Ferelden but they are so jumbled that I had no idea what you would be like. You appear quite… normal. I wonder if the Herald will likewise defy expectations.”

 

Emma shrugged. “Probably. We’re just people.” A plate of food and a tankard of ale were slid onto the table in front of her. “Thank you, Flissa,” she said absentmindedly. “Why aren’t you with the rest of the Templars?”

 

He heaved a sigh. “Honestly? I look at them and I see everyone we lost through my failure in planning. I led so many to their deaths with my poor leadership.”

 

“Do you want to hear something odd?”

 

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

 

“I was just having this same conversation yesterday, only I was the one feeling shitty about leading so many to their deaths.”

 

“You saved us,” he said flatly.

 

“So what you’re saying is that I saved you by prompting a plan to leave Therinfal Redoubt but you are responsible for those deaths because you carried it out?”

 

“That is unfair. You merely gave us information. Those lives were my responsibility as soon as I suggested we leave.”

 

“I suggested you leave, actually. In fact, I practically begged you to come here. That’s not the point though. The person I was speaking with, he made a lot of sense. The men that followed you, that died, they knew there would be risks and they felt it was worth it. There is good and bad to every decision we make. If they had not tried to leave, they may be having red lyrium poured down their throats as we speak. They may be going mad from it. They may be dead anyways and those of you who made it would still be there.”

 

He snorted. “I suppose if anyone would understand about consequences, it would be someone with your special skills.”

 

“Nah, I just knew enough to talk to the right person about it. May I be bold for a moment?”

 

“Yes, my lady- Though I would argue you have been already.”

 

“Yeah,” she laughed lightly. “I tend to do that. I just have the sense that if we’ve been having these thoughts about our decisions, probably your companions are too. ‘If only I’d been at that person’s side, if only I hadn’t hesitated to attack this person’... Every one of them likely has regrets about actions they took or did not take and the lives that were lost. I bet they could really use the support of a leader right about now.”

 

Delrin looked into his mug. “You are right, of course.” He drained the remaining contents. “I will stop wallowing and be there for my compatriots. Thank you, Lady Bennett, for reminding me of my duty.”

 

“You might as well call me Emma, because I’m not calling you Ser Barris anymore.”

 

He smiled and gave her a brisk bow. “Thank you, Emma, then.”

 

Emma finished her meal with her head swirling with thoughts. Despite what she said, she still felt the responsibility for those lost lives. Twenty-two souls and one lyrium addiction sat heavy on her conscience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> It was late and Emma was already sleeping so she wasn’t surprised that he simply crept into her room. She woke when he lay down beside her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered. “I just need you right now.”
> 
> She wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face in her chest. His face was wet. “Do you want to talk about it?”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Sorry about all the angst. Fun times will eventually return. I love you all! Comments and feedback is life <3


	49. Late Night Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> "Those lives were my responsibility as soon as I suggested we leave.”
> 
> “I suggested you leave, actually. In fact, I practically begged you to come here. That’s not the point though. The person I was speaking with, he made a lot of sense. The men that followed you, that died, they knew there would be risks and they felt it was worth it. There is good and bad to every decision we make. If they had not tried to leave, they may be having red lyrium poured down their throats as we speak. They may be going mad from it. They may be dead anyways and those of you who made it would still be there.”
> 
> He snorted. “I suppose if anyone would understand about consequences, it would be someone with your special skills.”
> 
> “Nah, I just knew enough to talk to the right person about it."

It was late and Emma was already sleeping so she wasn’t surprised that he simply crept into her room. She woke when he lay down beside her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered. “I just need you right now.”

 

She wrapped her arms around him and Maxwell buried his face in her chest. His face was wet. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

He opened his mouth but the only noise that came out was a sob. His body shuddered with it and he cried into her nightshirt and clung to her. Emma held him and stroked his hair and made soothing noises. There was nothing else she could think to do or say.

 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually sniffed. “I should be stronger than this.”

 

“Don’t be stupid.” He let out a sobbing laugh. He peered up at her. “Out there, maybe you need to be strong. In here, fucking break down if you need to. I’m here for you.”

 

“It’s good to be home. I’m glad we pushed through instead of making camp.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Maxwell snuggled in closer. “It was really bad, Em. Dorian and I… we ended up on the wrong side of a spell and were sent into the future. It was a nightmare. Half of our friends were dead and the rest were being tortured and experimented on. The whole world was being torn apart. We- we came back in time to stop it from happening but it did. It fucking happened and all those other versions of people I care about, they died. They…” He took a steadying breath. “I’ll be okay.”

 

“I know you will. For now, you need to be nothing of the sort. I can’t even imagine what going through that was like but I do know that you saved the world, again. Eventually, that will be the part you carry with you.”

 

“I hope so.” He paused. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Come have a drink with me?”

 

“You don’t think maybe a bath would be a better option?” She teased, but she pulled on a pair of leggings and grabbed her cloak, not bothering to change into another shirt, because screw it. It was Cullen’s old shirt. She’d begun sleeping in it one night while they were fighting. She had missed him that night.

 

As they approached the tavern, Emma heard raised voices. She looked at Maxwell in alarm and he darted inside in front of her. 

 

“--quite mistaken if you think I would be upset that you don’t want to serve me any of this Fereldan pisswater.” Dorian’s lilting tone oozed with disdain and mockery.

 

Drunken jeers rang up around him. “What’d you say?” “Let’s see what you can do with your blood once I spill it all over the floor!” “Oi! Get out of here Vint!” 

 

Before she knew what she was doing, Emma had darted in between Dorian and the group of soldiers who were harassing him. “What the fuck is your problem?” She yelled up at the nearest, stabbing a finger into his torso. “Take your racism and shove it up your ass!” It wasn’t her most elegant defense but, in all fairness, it was one a.m. and she had been woken from sleep.

 

Maxwell leaned against the wall, looking slightly amused at her approach, previous concerns temporarily forgotten. He called to the man in the corner. “Lieutenant Perry. Perhaps you would escort your men back to the barracks and disinvite them from the tavern in future?” The whole atmosphere changed as soon as the soldiers realized the Herald was in their presence. The man in question quickly stood and began shoving his drunk team out the door. “Oh, and Lieutenant? If I hear that you have allowed this type of behaviour to occur amongst your men again, I will be informing the Commander.”

 

“That was  _ quite  _ unnecessary, you know. I am fully capable of dealing with a few drunk ruffians, thank you very much.”

 

“I’m sure frying them with an electrical storm would have been very effective but I would miss the memories if this place blew up,” Maxwell smirked.

 

“I do have a modicum of control, thank you. If anyone was liable to blow the place up it was this one.  _ She _ is quite the firecracker.”

 

Emma was still glaring at the door where the men had left. “I can’t believe them,” she sputtered. She whirled around to the waitress. “Does this happen often? Do they harass Krem like that?”

 

The woman snorted, blonde waves bouncing across her shoulders. “Are you kidding? You’ve seen the company he comes in here with? Plus he tends to keep a lower profile. This one,” she jerked a thumb towards Dorian, “comes in all alone and practically screams ‘Tevinter who thinks he’s too good for this place’. Although, I am pleased you tossed those ones out instead. I wasn’t looking forward to having to do it myself when we close up. Never like working these late shifts alone.” She turned to Dorian. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I asked you to leave. It was only to avoid trouble- seemed easier.”

 

Dorian waved away her apology. “My feelings are not so easily hurt. My taste buds, however, are a different story. Do tell me you have something that approaches palatable in this establishment?” 

 

The waitress had a hard time not looking annoyed but she pulled out a bottle of something that looked like wine. “I assume that your taste buds are accompanied by a sizable coin purse?”

 

“Put it on my account, Issla,” Maxwell declared as he scooped the bottle off the counter along with three glasses. “Come along, Dorian. We’re drinking together now.”

 

Maxwell poured for them, exuding a calmness that Emma knew he didn’t feel. Dorian likewise appeared to be doing fine but he slammed back his glass and demanded another and she felt less sure. She sipped at her own glass, finding it closer in taste to port than wine, and watched the two men drink in silence.

 

“How are you, Dorian?” She asked quietly after a moment.

 

“Decidedly put out by all this travel, it has done a number on my wardrobe and I do expect this organization to compensate me accordingly.”

 

She wasn’t having it. “Okay, but how are you really?”

 

He pursed his lips and his mustache twitched. “A man whom I held up as a model for my own development and gave me hope for my country is in custody after joining a supremacist cult and nearly destroying the world. My closest friend will return to our home country and will likely die before I make it back myself.  _ That  _ is how I am.”

 

He hadn’t made any statements about his actual feelings, but still, it was enough to answer the question. 

 

“I’m sorry. Losing people you care about is… It can suck Maferath’s hairy balls.”

 

“To Maferath’s hairy balls!” Maxwell raised his glass, waiting for Emma and Dorian’s to meet it. Emma took a sip and felt his hand gently tilting her glass back up. She obediently drained it to match her partners’. 

 

\--

 

Only the three of them remained, having promised Issla to be responsible and lock up when they were done. People generally didn’t say no to the Herald. Four bottles later, Emma wasn’t quite sure what time it was but she was sure that she would regret not having Advil come morning. 

 

They froze when the door opened. 

 

“Commander!” Maxwell cheered as he entered. 

 

He looked at them, puzzled. “The tavern is not usually occupied at this time of morning. I was concerned. It’s nearly dawn. I- Welcome back, Herald.”

 

“Do join us, Commander.”

 

“Thank you, I tend not to get drunk before I complete my duties for the day.” He looked mildly amused, however.

 

“A shame. There’s a great deal of gossiping yet to be had.”

 

“Actually,” Emma drawled as she pushed away from the table and stood, “gentlemen.” She bowed deeply and dramatically. “I believe I’ve had enough for one night.” She righted herself, swaying a bit as she found her equilibrium.

 

“That is adorable. She’s hardly had any and she’s as wobbly as a newborn halla,” Dorian snickered.

 

“Shu’up.” She wrapped her arms around Maxwell and deposited a kiss on his cheek. “I’m glad you’re home,” she mumbled.

 

“You,” she pointed a finger at Dorian before wrapping him into his own hug. “No more wallowing alone. You have friends to do that with now.”

 

“First, I do not  _ wallow.  _ I  _ bemoan  _ with cultivated meticulousness. Second, you do not want to be my friend. I will quite thoroughly ruin your reputation.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. It’s too late. We’re already friends- my reputation be damned.”

 

She squeezed his shoulder and moved towards the door but he caught her by the wrist, pulling her unsteadily back to him. “Sit,” he instructed, uncharacteristically brusque. She dropped immediately into the chair beside him and he brought a hand up to each of her temples. In the corner of her eye, she saw Cullen jerk in her direction before stilling himself. A dancing fuzziness spread its way through her head and then Dorian dropped his hands. “Should help keep your pretty little head from giving you too much trouble later.” He winked and Emma grinned at the realization that he just magicked her a preemptive hangover cure.

 

“I didn’t know magic could do that!”

 

“There are things they don’t teach in your southern Circles. Can’t be encouraging fun among the dangerous mages, after all.’’

 

Maxwell turned to the door. “Commander, will you at least help Emma get to bed safely before beginning your duties for the day?”

 

“Certainly,” he responded. Emma rolled her eyes at the idea that he needed to be asked. It would probably require more than a request to convince him not to. 

 

“I am happy to have your company but I hardly require an esc-” Her words were cut off as she stumbled over the lip of the tavern entryway. Strong arms caught her effortlessly, circling her waist.

 

“Clearly you are more than capable,” he smirked as he helped her right herself. Emma huffed as she exited the tavern. “Why do you allow him to do this to you?” As soon as the door closed, his expression turned serious.

 

“Do what… get me drunk?”

 

His raised eyebrows were an affirmative.

 

“He’s not doing anything to me. He and Dorian went through something really awful and they needed support and to feel like things were normal. I just… misestim- mises- drank more than I thought.”

 

“So getting drunk was you being a good friend?”

 

“Exactly!” 

 

“So why have you stopped now when they continue?” Emma looked at him suspiciously.  _ What is with the twenty questions? _

 

“It’s long past closing time. I need to go home.” She stopped. Just the other day she was saying she wanted to go home and she meant Earth. Now she was casually referring to her little hut as home. What did she even want? She closed her eyes, a familiar melody winding its way through her head.

 

“Emma? Are you alright?”

 

“ _ Closing time. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here, _ ” she sang quietly, suddenly morose in her drunkenness.

 

“I’ve never heard that before. Is that a song from where you’re from?”

 

She licked her lips, ignoring the question.

 

“Come on, Emma. Let’s get you home.”

 

She laughed, the ridiculousness of that word cracking something inside her. “ _ I know who I want to take me home. I know who I want to take me ho-ome! I know who I want to take me home, take me ho-oo-ome. _ ”

 

She looked at him, her drunk mind expecting him to see the joke but he only looked concerned. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Let’s go.”

 

They walked back to her hut slowly; she wobbled occasionally and he held her arm lightly to guide her. She distantly wished he would just scoop her up and carry her. They would probably make better time. When he opened her door for her, she tumbled into her bedroll gratefully, unhooking her cloak and tossing it to the side. “Is that my shirt?”

 

She looked down, surprised. “Did you want it back?”

 

“No!” He put his hands in front of him in protest. “No, I just hadn’t seen it for a while and I wondered what happened to it.”

 

“I sleep in it,” she murmured. “It helps when I miss you.”

 

“We see each other every day. How could you possibly miss me?”

 

“I miss you right now,” she admitted. A part of her brain set off alarm bells, insisting that she abort saying what she was about to confess. The less inhibited part that had spent three hours in the middle of the night imbibing surprisingly strong drinks kept rattling forward. “You’re different than you were.”

 

“What do you mean,” he prompted quietly.

 

“You are so mild now. Before, you were all serious and irritable and then when I made you laugh, it made me so happy. I felt special. It’s selfish, I know it is. I just… I haven’t seen you yell at anyone or really, fully laugh since...”

 

“Since I started taking lyrium again.”

 

She nodded.

 

“I’m still the same person, Emma. You know that, right?”

 

“‘Course… but I think about how lyrium causes people to lose themselves bit by bit and I wonder where that shift is… when does a person stop being themselves when the process is that insidious?” She was dreadfully sober now, her mind pulling itself together and clearing for this conversation.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know how I feel right now and I know that I’m definitely still me.”

 

An awkward silence settled between them, each thinking on what the other had said. Cullen was the first to move, shaking his head softly. “Good night, Emma,” he said and slowly closed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Maxwell looked particularly anxious when they entered the war room. Cassandra, likewise, appeared as serious as Emma had ever seen her. It seemed she had already learned about most of what had occurred during the return from Redcliffe. Emma moved to Maxwell’s side, put a hand on his shoulder to offer support.
> 
> He started with the most important bits, that the mages had joined as equal allies and were on their way to Haven, likely to arrive by the evening or late morning tomorrow if they experienced delays. He wanted to give them a day to rest and attempt closing the Breach the following afternoon. Josephine nodded, burying her face and scribbling notes to hide her reaction to the understanding that the timeline meant Haven would be attacked in two days time. Leliana’s face betrayed nothing. Cullen slammed his fist on the table.


	50. Breach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Come along, Dorian. We’re drinking together now.”
> 
> Maxwell poured for them, exuding a calmness that Emma knew he didn’t feel. Dorian likewise appeared to be doing fine but he slammed back his glass and demanded another and she felt less sure. She sipped at her own glass, finding it closer in taste to port than wine, and watched the two men drink in silence.
> 
> \--
> 
> “I’m still the same person, Emma. You know that, right?”
> 
> “‘Course… but I think about how lyrium causes people to lose themselves bit by bit and I wonder where that shift is… when does a person stop being themselves when the process is that insidious?” She was dreadfully sober now, her mind pulling itself together and clearing for this conversation.
> 
> “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I know how I feel right now and I know that I’m definitely still me.”
> 
> An awkward silence settled between them, each thinking on what the other had said. Cullen was the first to move, shaking his head softly. “Good night, Emma,” he said and slowly closed the door behind him.

She waited for him before the war council. Her head was a little fuzzy but she was fairly certain that she remembered what had happened the night before and that it was messy and embarrassing. 

 

“Can we speak a moment,” she murmured, placing a hand on his arm as he approached.

 

“Of course.” He moved to the side with her, a quiet corner of the Chantry. She blinked, a hazy memory of the first time she had apologized to him happening in this same spot. It almost made her smile. So much and yet so little had changed since then. 

 

“I wanted to apologize for last night. I was a mess and I can’t imagine bringing me to bed was anything less than a trial of your patience.”

 

“Actually.” His mouth quirked up at one corner. “I thought you put on an amusing show until you became upset. And I hope to have more opportunities to hear you sing. You have a pretty voice.”

 

She scowled at him, fairly certain he was teasing her. She had never broken any windows or caused active grimacing but she was only passably able to carry a tune- even when sober. He smiled, guileless and ernest. “You have poor taste,” she muttered before sighing deeply. “I should apologize for the rest as well. For what I said afterwards.”

 

He shifted his weight awkwardly. “Please, don’t. I like that you speak your mind, Emma. It makes it easier, knowing what you think. I’m not interested in nice words intended to conceal.”

 

“Still, it can’t have been pleasant to hear.”

 

“No. It is frequently difficult to hear others echo your own fears.”

 

They hovered across from each other silently. 

 

“We should head to the meeting,” she offered.

 

Maxwell looked particularly anxious when they entered the war room. Cassandra, likewise, appeared as serious as Emma had ever seen her. It seemed she had already learned about most of what had occurred during the return from Redcliffe. Emma moved to Maxwell’s side, put a hand on his shoulder to offer support. The room itself felt darker and more oppressive than usual. She felt the pressure of everything he was going to have to talk about.

 

He started with the most important bits, the easiest bits. The mages had joined as equal allies and were on their way to Haven, likely to arrive by the evening or late morning tomorrow if they experienced delays. He wanted to give them a day to rest and attempt closing the Breach the following afternoon. Josephine nodded, burying her face and scribbling notes to hide her reaction to the understanding that the timeline meant Haven would be attacked in two days time. Leliana’s face betrayed nothing. Cullen slammed his fist on the table, an expression of frustration and worry about getting everything ready in time.

 

“I understand your concerns about allowing the mages too much freedom, Commander Rutherford, but I believe they will work harder for us as equals than simply because we took the leash from their former master,” Maxwell responded coolly.

 

“I was concerned as well, Cullen, but I believe this may have been the correct decision,” Cassandra added.

 

“That is not- I apologize for my outburst. I respect your decision, Herald.”

 

“Perhaps now that we have a schedule, it is safe to simply be open about this?” Emma raised her eyebrows. The deception seemed unnecessary now, especially if it would create strife between two of her favourite people because Maxwell believed Cullen to be angry about the mages joining them.

 

They explained about the impending attack, the Elder One coming with an army of Red Templars. They outlined all of the preparation that had been done, the secret escape route for backup, and the timeline. Maxwell blanched. It was a great deal to take on all at once. Emma squeezed his shoulder. “We’re as prepared as we can be. It will be okay.”

 

“This Elder One, it was under his instructions that Alexius tried to remove me from the timeline. He would have succeeded if Dorian hadn’t done something to protect me. It sent us into the future instead and I saw everything. The world he could create is… horrifying.”

 

“Perhaps you should outline what you saw for us, Herald.” Leliana was completely calm.

 

“You sacrificed yourself for me,” he said softly. “In the future. You, Cassandra, The Iron Bull, and you, Commander. You all gave your lives so Dorian and I would have time to go back in time and undo what had occurred.”

 

Emma blinked. Cullen had been alive and at the castle? That didn’t match to what she knew at all.

 

“How did we wind up there?” Leliana asked, referring to herself and Cullen.

 

“I only know some of what happened. After we disappeared, everyone was taken into custody. They began to experiment on Cassandra and Iron Bull using red lyrium. He, Alexius, brought Sera down to interrogate her and when it became apparent that she wasn’t Emma… he killed her in a rage.”

 

Emma gasped. She couldn’t help herself. That had truly surprised her. Maxwell looked at her apologetically. She could tell it was going to get worse.

 

“Emma knew that Dorian and I would reappear about a year down the timeline so the Inquisition was mostly focused on minimizing destruction, supporting victims, and sabotaging supply routes, generally impeding the Elder One’s plans… until Emma was kidnapped. You had no choice. She was too valuable an asset to allow to remain with the enemy so you stormed Redcliffe Castle. It did not go well.”

 

She closed her eyes, mentally berating herself for not being able to stay out of trouble again. She could feel her breath catching in her throat even as she reminded herself that this would never happen. Still, it had happened to another version of herself… and to another version of everyone who had died trying to rescue her.

 

“Was she alive? Did you see her?” Cullen’s voice was soft, prompting him to continue. 

 

Even over the noise of her own breath and heartbeat, Emma heard Maxwell swallow. He put a hand overtop of her own and squeezed. He really didn’t want her to hear this.

 

“She was physically in one piece. A few bruises from when Alexius had become angry but she was considered too important to risk death from torture. They wanted to know everything she knew.” She heard a sigh of relief from both Cullen and Josephine. Evidently, neither of them thought much of her chances to withstand torture. She didn’t blame them, she didn’t think much of them herself. At the same time, she felt a crushing feeling in her chest from knowing that so many had died, or worse, and she had barely had a hand laid on her. “Emotionally, she was less well. She, you, were locked up next to the throne and forced to witness the worst of what was happening.”

 

“I found Leliana first. She was captured during the rescue attempt, tortured and experimented on.” He turned to her. “Evidently, you were their most successful subject.” He shuddered, and Emma had a recollection of her being resistant to Blight. Remembering the game might have made things feel more manageable at that moment but instead it only made them more surreal and horrifying. She flicked her eyes to the spymaster and saw only calm reserve. He continued. “Cullen, they were going to kill you, put your head on a spike. A warning to other armies who would consider similar actions.”

 

He nodded, accepting that he would have been executed. “You said he sacrificed himself for you,” Emma commented quietly. “That implies he wasn’t dead yet.”

 

Maxwell pursed his lips. She wasn’t supposed to ask. He spoke to Cullen, unable to look at her but she watched the emotions play out on his face all the same. “It became quickly apparent how important you are… to Emma. They saw you as more useful as a tool to get information out of her. When I entered the throne room, they were… breaking things. In front of her.” She could tell he was avoiding more visceral language on purpose but it still caused her stomach to lurch in horror. “It obviously wasn’t the first time.”

 

She couldn’t breathe. She could barely see, her eyes had completely glassed with tears. Emma tore away from Maxwell and burst out the war room door into the Chantry. She made it about two steps before she collapsed onto the floor, gasping and dry heaving on all fours. The cold stone against her palms not enough to ground her in the present. Strong arms wrapped around her torso and hauled her up into them, turning her to face their owner. He roughly brushed wet strands of hair off her face with gloved hands. She could barely make him out through her tears. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “They-”

 

“I’m here. They didn’t.”

 

“Cullen, I-” She didn’t get to finish her sentence because his lips were on hers. The rest of the Chantry disappeared and she was only aware of him, kissing her, touching her. An arm wrapped around her waist pulled her against him and the other cupped her face gently. His mouth was less gentle, like he could pour all his feelings into her if he could only kiss her hard enough. Emma fisted her hands in his mantle, hanging on to the one other thing that felt real. She finally began to kiss him back, moving her mouth against his with a neediness she didn’t know existed. She could taste the salt of her tears on his lips and her heart pounded against her chest, reaching towards him violently. She pushed up onto her toes, moving closer to him, clinging to him for balance, trying to say with her body what she couldn’t with words.  _ I need you.  _ She felt him respond, dropping his hand from her face down to join his other around her back and pull her up into him. She had no idea how long he had been kissing her. She only knew her head was swimming and she never wanted it to stop.  _ I need you,  _ she said again with hand that snaked up into his hair, trusting him to keep her upright now.  _ I need you,  _ she said with a tongue that dipped into his mouth to taste him.

 

_ I need you and you’re disappearing.  _

 

She stiffened and pulled away. “I can’t.” She felt fresh tears forming at the inside of her eyes. “Not right now. Not with-” She couldn’t say it. He deserved the words but she couldn’t make her mouth cooperate when it still tasted like him.  _ Not with you on lyrium. _

 

She fled.

 

\--

 

Emma looked down. It was so quiet, despite the numbers of people surrounding her.

 

Solas and Cassandra were down below, standing with him. Maxwell looked so clear and full of purpose. It must have crossed his mind that he could die, or this could otherwise leave him unable to function, but he hadn’t asked and she hadn’t thought to reassure him. She offered a warm smile when their eyes connected but she wasn’t sure it conveyed what she meant.  _ You’re going to be okay.  _

 

The mages and the healthier among the templars formed a ring around area, ready to pour all their power into assisting him. Up higher, on what remained of balconies and upper walkways, archers waited at the ready- just in case. Sera, Varric and Leliana were with them. Dorian and Vivienne were in amongst the other mages. She couldn’t see Iron Bull or Blackwall. Many soldiers had remained to protect Haven. She imagined they must be there as well.

 

Cullen. Cullen stood beside her. They hadn’t spoken about what had happened. 

 

Distantly, she heard Solas giving instructions to the mages. It was beginning. The air was thick with anticipation and despite herself, Emma felt anxious. She wanted to reach out and put her hand in Cullen’s but she didn’t dare. Not after what happened. She stared ahead and pretended to listen to what was being said. A gloved finger brushed over the back of her hand, lightly curling around to her palm and asking a question. She gratefully intertwined her fingers with his. They both continued to look ahead, neither acknowledging the contact.

 

Maxwell raised his hand in the air and pushed into the swell of green haze that had grown around him. A crackling noise was thunderous in her ears. A sharp pain bisected her head. The noise must be even louder than she could register to cause this agony, she thought. It intensified steadily. It was definitely not the noise.

 

It continued increasing. She must have been reacting to the pain because Cullen was facing her now, grabbing her shoulder with his free hand. Was he saying something? She reached out and gripped his forearm. It hurt so much, she could not think. She looked into his eyes, panicking, trying to form words to explain but they wouldn’t come. She opened her mouth.  _ Help.  _ Nothing came out. She was terrified, clutching and grabbing onto his arms but she couldn’t stay upright.

 

Then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Hello my lovely and wonderful readers! It is Chapter 50 and the Breach is closed! And Cullen kissed Emma (even if it ended abruptly)! Woo! It has been a long ride to get here. Aaand I'm taking a little break (just a week) to organize and plan for the future. I have some broad strokes of things that will be happening but there is definitely some other planning that needs to happen.
> 
> I would love to get some more holistic feedback on the fic so far- things you like and want more of (other than EmmaxCullen), things you're not so keen on (other than EmmaxBlackwall) -- and also maybe, like, predictions for the future! What twists and turns do you see coming? 
> 
> You'll probably get an update on Cullen's POV in the interim, and maybe a smutty scene in the smut collection as I've had one percolating with Krem & Emma that I want to write but is obvs not canon!
> 
> Happy reading! <3


	51. Damaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm back, baby! Also I have a tumblr thing now? kimpossibility.tumblr.com
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Maxwell raised his hand in the air and pushed into the swell of green haze that had grown around him. A crackling noise was thunderous in her ears. A sharp pain bisected her head. The noise must be even louder than she could register to cause this agony, she thought. It intensified steadily. It was definitely not the noise.
> 
> It continued increasing. She must have been reacting to the pain because Cullen was facing her now, grabbing her shoulder with his free hand. Was he saying something? She reached out and gripped his forearm. It hurt so much, she could not think. She looked into his eyes, panicking, trying to form words to explain but they wouldn’t come. She opened her mouth. Help. Nothing came out. She was terrified, clutching and grabbing onto his arms but she couldn’t stay upright.
> 
> Then there was nothing.

Emma had no idea how long she’d been here. It could have been minutes. It could have been weeks. There was simply no way to tell.

 

More importantly, there was simply nothing, and it was oppressive.

 

No sounds. No smells. No taste. A greyish swirling void that one couldn’t quite focus on and herself, a disembodied presence merely existing within it. She had her thoughts, but no body that she was aware of. If she hadn’t completely lost her mind already, it would certainly not be long. Long was, of course, relative given that she could not track the passage of time in any way.

 

Would she be here forever?

 

Once, she thought she heard something but she couldn’t remember when that was or what it sounded like. It was probably just a tic in her brain. A random nerve fired, needing stimulation. She wasn’t even sure she remembered what real sound  _ sounded  _ like.

 

She considered methods of tracking time. Counting would likely cause her to lose herself more quickly. She thought maybe she would ‘sing’. Songs tended to be about three to four minutes, if she could remember how many she sang, then she would have an idea how much time had passed. She quickly found herself confused, however. She ran through a song and had no idea if it was her first or hundredth. Things were so difficult to hang onto here.

 

A ripple. Was that a ripple? She tried to find it again but it was amorphous nothingness everywhere. Was she even  _ seeing _ ? Without a body, she couldn’t possibly have eyes could she?

 

“You have a body, shira’lan.” Emma was startled. Her mind was conjuring Solas’s voice now, it was so desperate for something tangible. She was surprised it wasn’t Cullen’s voice, or the sensation of his lips on hers. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember how his voice sounded or how he felt. She couldn’t picture him, only a hazy awareness of a scar, golden curls, and amber eyes, but they were more like facts than images. A slight panic tugged at her somewhere.

 

“You must remember. Focus.” Funny how her brain was responding to her own thoughts with the voice of another. “Come now, shira’lan. You must not let go. Reach out with yourself. I have done what I can.”

 

_ Done what I can?  _ Emma would have scrunched her nose if it was a possibility. Her brain was responding strangely to the absence of input. 

 

“Emma. Reach out. Feel for it.” Insistence. Urgency. Irritation. Fear? Might as well follow this strange thought. Not as though she had anything else to do. She focused her brain on the intention to feel, to reach out as it were. There was  _ something.  _ Maybe. A vague tingling that made her think of pollen landing on her skin. Wispy, light, barely there.

 

_ Okay, now what?  _ “Okay, now what?” Her voice. It made noise. Her hand flew to her mouth.  _ Her mouth? Her hand?  _ She looked. It wasn’t quite corporeal, but it was there. A nebulous hand, slowly congealing into something.

 

“Good. Can you come towards me?”

 

“I don’t know where you are. Your voice is from everywhere. I can’t see you.”

 

“Follow the feeling.”

 

_ Well, that’s an ambiguous statement if I’ve ever heard one.  _ Emma reached out with her arms and slowly swirled them, feeling for something, when the tingling increased in one direction. She tried to step towards it but it felt like wading through mud. She couldn’t get traction and everything was thick against her.

 

“Solas, I can’t,” she called out.

 

“You can. Stop moving your body and move your mind.” Emma closed her eyes and reached out with her mind in the direction of the tingling, willing herself in that direction and it started to get stronger. She could feel now, a sort of tugging in her chest. Something had latched onto her and it was _pulling, enveloping her in sensations._ _It was warm and touching her all over, running hands up her arms and through her hair. She inhaled and it felt like she breathed in her own soul._

 

_ “Good, Emma. You are back.” The voice was right there, no longer ambiguously floating in the air, and her eyes snapped open. _

 

_ “Solas.” He was there, his arms around her and touching and stroking her all over, as though her were cementing her somehow.  A field of wildflowers, dots of red and purple and yellow, surrounded their forms and she could smell them. A sound of birds chirping in the distance danced through her senses.  _

 

_ “It is good to see you here, ma’falon. I worried.”  _

 

_ “Where are we?” _

 

_ “We are in the Fade. You should sit. Your mind has only just created this body for you.” _

 

_ She sat. And then she lay. And then she rolled in the flowers, savouring the feeling of them brushing against her skin and the ground underneath her. “Where was I?” _

 

_ “Not in the Fade. It is a thing to be discussed another time. For now, you must rest.” _

 

_ “If I’m in the Fade, then am I not by definition resting?” _

 

_ “Your mind must rest. Your connection here is still tentative but it should strengthen again with time. Stay. I will inform the others that you have returned.” _

 

_ “How long have I been gone?” _

 

_ “About a day and a half.” _

 

_ She blinked, dread settling over her. “Over a day? Solas, are we in Haven?” _

 

_ “We are in the Fade.” _

 

_ “You know what I’m asking.” _

 

_ “And I believe you already know the answer, shira’lan.” _

 

_ “I have to wake up.” _

 

_ “No. You must stay.” _

 

_ “Solas, wake me up.” _

 

_ “I will not.” _

 

_ “Solas! How do I-” _

 

\--

 

Her eyes fluttered open. Things came to her slowly. The feeling of lying on her side with a cot beneath her, and heavy blankets. The feeling of a hand in hers. A head of golden curls, bowed. The low murmuring of words, a prayer. Another hand, this one on her head and softly stroking with its thumb. 

 

The feeling of tears as it all began to arrange itself within her understanding. “I forgot what your voice sounded like,” she whispered.

 

He stopped, and raised his head slowly. His face was relief, bewilderment, and hesitation. “The Maker has returned you to me.” Words said with reverence, almost a wondering question.

 

She quirked a tiny smile, weak. “I actually think it might have been Solas.”

 

“You did a fair amount of the work yourself, shira’lan, and you should still be sleeping.” He approached, having evidently also been in the tent.

 

She ignored his admonishment. “Maxwell?” They shared a look. “He’s not back yet.” The words were flat. An acknowledgement and not a question.

 

Solas raised an eyebrow. “Yet?”

 

“He will come.” She was pretty sure.

 

Cullen shook his head, squeezing her hand sadly. “I’m so sorry, Emma. You don’t understand. There wasn’t only a battle. The magister… he rode an archdemon. The Herald remained behind. He sacrificed himself for everyone else.”

 

There was nothing that sounded off script, but still Emma chewed her bottom lip nervously. She could tell it was dark outside the tent. Shouldn’t he be back by now? “Get Cole. Cole will know.”

 

Cullen scrunched up his face. “Who is Cole?”

 

Emma snorted.  _ Of course he would make Cullen forget. _ Then she looked at Solas and he looked equally confused. She bolted upright and Cullen grabbed her. Even Solas jolted forward. “Lay back down. You are hurt.”

 

“Please, Emma.” Cullen’s eyes begged her to listen and she allowed him to gently lower her. 

 

“Cole? Cole?” She called out into the tent. Cullen and Solas shared another concerned look. “You truly don’t remember him? Cole!”

 

“I came to warn them but they didn’t need me.” Cole was standing at the foot of her cot. Cullen stumbled backwards, pulling out his sword. Solas looked surprised but merely took a single step backwards. “But now there are other hurts.”

 

Emma exhaled in a rush of relief. “People will always need you, Cole.” The boy smiled, a shy and tentative peek from under his hat.

 

“You remember me but I don’t remember you.”

 

“Yes. Cole, listen. I know how you can help lots of hurts at once.” He nodded. “Can you feel him? Maxwell? Can you find him using his pain?”

 

He blinked away.  _ Was that it?  _ Cullen opened his mouth to speak and Cole was suddenly back. “He’s trying to come here but he’s not sure where here is. He’s very cold and very hurt. I’m going to die out here.”

 

“Can you help him get here?” Another nod. “Tell him Emma sent you to guide him safely.”

 

Gone again.

 

Emma exhaled shakily, suddenly exhausted. Cullen had many questions written across his face but clearly decided another time would be better. He sat down next to her again and brushed the hair from her forehead. “You’ve barely woken and you’re already putting things to right. You truly are a miracle.” She let a smile ghost across her lips but she shook her head softly. 

 

“I missed it. I couldn’t help. How bad was it?”

 

“Now isn’t the time to speak about that. You should rest.”

 

Her mind was getting fuzzy so she didn’t argue. “You should get ready for Maxwell and tell people he’s coming.”

 

He smiled. “I also know a number of people who will want to hear that you are awake. Do you have a priority list for who gets to see you after you sleep?”

 

“Max. I want to see Maxwell if he’s well enough. And Varric. And Blackwall. And Bull and Cass. And Dorian. And Josie. And-”

 

“Wait. Wait,” he chuckled. “I think your list is long enough for now. Solas, will you stay with her?”

 

“Of course. I would like to check how her mind is healing now that she is awake.” Cullen pressed his lips together briefly in concern before he stilled his expression. 

 

“I will be back soon,” he promised.

 

“I am in capable hands.” 

 

He smiled, hesitating for a moment before finally rising to leave. 

 

Solas spread his hands in invitation. “I imagine you have questions. I will allow you three before I put you back to sleep.”

 

Emma closed her eyes, suddenly tired. He was right though. She had questions. “That seems reasonable.”

 

“First, however, I would like to examine you.” With her permission, Solas moved to her head and she felt the soft buzz of magic exploring inside her. He’d never done this to her brain before and it felt exceptionally strange, like she was in an altered state of some sort. She then felt a different, cool tickle as he pumped some healing magic into her. “The actual structures are mostly healed but I must warn you that damage to your mind is different from damage to your body and there may be injuries that were not healed with the physical repair.”

 

“Solas, what happened to me at the Breach?”

 

“That will be one of your questions.” She nodded. “I am not completely certain; however, it seems that the Breach was somehow acting as a connection between you and the Fade. When it was sealed, that connection was suddenly severed and that process caused serious damage to you, body and mind.”

 

She considered. What did she need to know and what could wait? “What were our losses like? During the battle, I mean.”

 

“I know what you mean, shira’lan. That I cannot answer for you. I believe they were minimal but I am not certain of either names or numbers. I will not count that against your questions.”

 

“Where was I? That horrible space. What was it?”

 

“It was nowhere. Your mind existed in a type of consciousness but had no connection to the Fade. It simply was.” He shuddered notably. “It was a living death.”

 

Emma frowned. She had nothing really to compare the experience to. There was no Fade in her world, and yet she had never experienced anything like that.

 

She thought on her final question. “You called me ‘ma’falon’ in the Fade. Why?”

 

He blinked at her. “ _ This _ is your final question?” He shook his head. “You surprise me, shira’lan. I had thought you would ask how I pulled you back, what other effects might be- something more pertinent.”

 

“My curiosity on those things can wait until tomorrow to be satisfied. This thing I want to know now.”

 

He smirked at her. “You are a strange one. It means ‘my friend’, more or less.”

 

“I know what it  _ means,  _ Solas. I asked why you named me such when you never have before. I thought it was only used for special relationships?”

 

“You have a curious smattering of knowledge. Yes. Falon is a term used for close friendships. I was… surprised by my concern and sorrow when you were hurt. I believe I enjoy our conversations and consider you friend. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

 

“No. I just didn’t know you felt that way. I would like to be friends, Solas.”  _ Tentatively. And with caveats. And I will be watching you. _

 

“Good. Then go to sleep now, ma’falon. You need to rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She was in the centre of a clearing. All about her was a vaguely threatening forest of darkness from which eyes peered out. It reminded her of the forest scene in Snow White. It was like her mind was terrified and trying to soothe her at the same time by echoing a childhood film. Her experience diverged from there. She was not alone in the clearing. A great, shaggy wolf stood next to her. She came up to about its shoulder. 
> 
> -Author's Questions-
> 
> Hey lovely readers! I hope you all had a good week without me! (Or at least without as much of me.) I have questions for you. QUESTIONS. Because I have an IDEA.
> 
> Would anyone be interested in a fic where the readers get to make choices about the story? I would love to do something collaborative like that where each chapter there are questions that the readers can vote on - as in seriously meaningful choices (and not just the ones made in game). So that’s the first question, do you think this is an interesting idea that you would want to partake in?
> 
> Second part. I imagine this being a fair amount of work because I would have to a) have regular post times to ensure people know the cut offs for voting and b) have to write after the voting is done because major decisions are being made. I can’t just write when the muse takes me. I’d be responsible to y’all as co-creators of this project. So, I was thinking of dividing up the questions and putting half behind a $1/month Patreon subscription. So half the questions anyone would be able to vote on and the other half would be locked for contributors. I’m thinking of doing half/half because I really want everyone to be able to get involved and have fun with this without demanding support for it, but also I think it would be a neat perk for peeps who want to support the project. Also, I really want to pass money on to other content creators by commissioning some of the amazing visual artists who are out there but… you know, I be broke. So second/third question is a) does that sound reasonable and b) would you still be interested?
> 
> (If it wasn’t obvious, this fic will continue on as my fun little playground because I have PLANS.)


	52. Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> “Solas, what happened to me at the Breach?”
> 
> “That will be one of your questions.” She nodded. “I am not completely certain; however, it seems that the Breach was somehow acting as a connection between you and the Fade. When it was sealed, that connection was suddenly severed and that process caused serious damage to you, body and mind.”
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> I didn't get much in the way of responses re: my query on Monday so I'm just going to give it a shot and see what happens. If you're at all interested, look for the prologue and the first voting options to drop later today!

_ She was in the centre of a clearing. All about her was a vaguely threatening forest of darkness from which eyes peered out. It reminded her of the forest scene in Snow White. It was like her mind was terrified and trying to soothe her at the same time by echoing a childhood film. Her experience diverged from there. She was not alone in the clearing. A great, shaggy wolf stood next to her. She came up to about its shoulder.  _

 

_ She smiled a little to herself. Of course her subconscious would manifest a wolf guardian after she was somehow pulled from nothingness by Solas.  _

 

_ The wolf lay down and Emma followed suit, stretching out and leaning against the side of its body. She listened. Normal forest sounds. This was a strangely calm dream. She vaguely remembered the sense of peaceful weariness that had settled over her with a wave of Solas’s finger. Likely his sleeping spell was also soothing in some measure. She closed her eyes. Might as well enjoy it and relax. _

 

_ Something was niggling at her, however. Something felt wrong and she could sense it more with her eyes closed - something hovering at the edges and watching. _

 

_ “Solas? I can feel that you’re here.” _

 

_ “I apologize, shira’lan. I did not mean to disturb you.” _

 

_ “And yet you have come into one of my dreams again, uninvited.” _

 

_ “I should have mentioned before. I wanted to ensure that you would reach the Fade on your own. I might need to check a few times. I believe you will be alright now, but I have never seen one return from this type of severing before.” _

 

_ She worried her bottom lip, considering. “Okay. I don’t want to end up back… there. I will allow you two more visits after this. Does that work?” _

 

_ “That is acceptable assuming I do not see anything that displeases me before then.” _

 

_ There was a pause as she regarded him and he watched where her hand was idly playing with fur on the wolf’s haunch. “You have chosen an interesting protector.” _

 

_ Of course he would take notice. “Protector?” _

 

_ He gestured around them, to the darkness, to the eyes.  _

 

_ Emma smiled. “I do not need a protector. You can come out now,” she called to them. The eyes moved. Bunnies and birds and a host of other forest creatures invaded the space. It was that scene from Snow White, after all. “Perhaps I am simply friends with a wolf.” Her mind scrambled for something else. That comment was far too accurate. “Or maybe my mind simply remembers that Maxwell called me a wolf once.”  _

 

_ Solas snorted. “You, ma’falon, are no wolf.” _

 

_ She shrugged, not playing into his baiting words. “Varric says I’m a fox. Iron Bull calls me Kitten. What do you think I am, Solas?” _

 

_ A wolfish grin. _

 

_ “I will think on it. Enjoy your rest.” _

 

_ He was gone. _

 

\--

 

When Emma woke again, she was alone in the tent. She heard noises.  _ Maxwell.  _

 

She sat up, looking around for her cloak. When she didn’t see it, she wrapped herself up in the blanket and left the tent. Her body was tired and sluggish but she felt no pain. It was late and not many people were up. She followed the sound. Cullen was directing two soldiers towards a tent. They were carrying an unconscious Maxwell. Solas and a woman she recognized as a healer followed them in.

 

Cullen turned and spotted her. “What are you doing? You should be in bed.”

 

“I heard noises. I want to see him.”

 

“You will only be in the way right now. I promise you can see him when he’s stable.” Emma nodded, knowing he was right. She had nothing to offer this situation. “Maker’s breath. Emma, you aren’t wearing any shoes.”

 

She looked down at her bare feet buried in two inches of snow. She hadn’t even noticed the cold. She certainly hadn’t intended to do such a stupid thing. “Come here.” He pulled her towards him and then scooped her up, blanket and all. “You’re going back to bed.”

 

“I’ve been resting. Is there nothing I can do to help elsewhere?”

 

“Certainly not without shoes.” 

 

Back in the tent, he gently lowered her onto the cot. She sat with the blanket wrapped around her and he took a foot in his hand. He pulled off his gloves and began rubbing her feet briskly. “They’re freezing, Emma.”

 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I guess my brain is a little scrambled from the Breach.” She laughed shakily.

 

Cullen merely frowned and continued rubbing her feet until they were pink and warm. They tingled some as the feeling returned but never hurt so she was quite certain he was overreacting. She said nothing to that effect, however.

 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said softly.

 

He stopped rubbing at that. “I thought…” He shook his head. “Solas said he could not find you, that your mind might be gone. You seemed an empty shell.” A long pause. “There was nothing I could do.”

 

She could feel his need for comfort and reached forward to wrap her arms around his neck, sinking off the cot and into his arms. He held her to him tightly. They stayed that way awhile, just holding each other. She could feel his breath ghosting across her ear in tandem with the rise and fall of his armor. She felt the scratch of his stubble against her cheek as he shifted to bury his face in her neck.

 

“I should return. There are things that need my attention.” He said the words into her skin but it was Emma who pulled away first.

 

“Go. Do what you need. I will attempt to sleep more and behave myself.” She touched his cheek briefly before she pulled fully out of his embrace and moved back onto the cot. She wanted more comfort from him in that moment. She yearned for it, but she couldn’t encourage more after what had happened, for both their sakes. It wasn’t fair.

 

\--

 

The morning brought Varric, accompanied by breakfast. 

 

“See, Visions? You said you weren’t interesting and then you go and do something like collapse as the Breach is being sealed? That is top rate dramatic. I’m not even sure I can put it on paper. Nobody will believe it.”

 

“Happy to do you a solid, Varric.”

 

He tilted his head at her. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

 

“Sorry. I’m pleased I was useful to you.” 

 

“You frequently are. Now. Eat some food and I’ll take you around a little to show you off.”

 

“Define ‘little’ in this context.”

 

“A couple of hours at the most. I’m under strict instructions from a curly-haired ex-templar to make sure you don’t overdo it.”

 

“Can I see Max?”

 

“He’s not awake yet, but I can take you there.”

 

He led her around on his arm, after ensuring she was wrapped in proper boots in her cloak - which had been in a trunk inside the tent the whole time. Maxwell was indeed unconscious but he looked better than he had the night before and Solas confirmed that he should be fully recovered in a day or two.

 

“He was relieved that you woke up. It helped.” Cole appeared at her side as she was exiting the tent.

 

Varric jumped a foot sideways. “Piss on a stick, kid! Where’d you come from?”

 

“This is Cole. He helped bring Maxwell back.” Varric eyed him up skeptically. 

 

Cole pointed at Varric. “He’s glad you woke up too.”

 

“I know. Thank you.” And she did know, but she felt a little glow hearing Cole say it and she was sure that was why he did so.

 

“It helped but they are still scared. Shivers and secret worries in the dark.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing that the dawn will come.” She giggled in her head at her cryptic messaging.

 

“It’s already day.” He tilted his head and Varric snorted.

 

“He’s got you there.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a metaphor. They’ll be better when Maxwell wakes up and we have a direction. Don’t worry too much, Cole. It will get better.”

 

Iron Bull scooped her off the ground and into a great hug that made Varric grimace in concern, but her body was fine and the squeeze felt genuinely warm. She looped her arms around his neck and squeezed him back. She tapped Krem on the shoulder and gave him a quick hug as well. She needed to spend more time getting to know him, she thought. He was always kind and his words of relief were sweet.

 

Sera wrinkled her nose and asked if Emma understood now why magic was so awful. Leliana merely nodded to her before rushing off to do something. The woman was never not planning, scheming, communicating. Vivienne told her she looked unwell and should rest more. Blackwall squeezed her shoulder, then changed his mind and gave her a full hug. Josephine beamed and fussed over her, ensuring her appearance was reassuring to others who might not know her injuries were all in her head.

 

Cassandra looked truly worried and apologized for not taking steps to protect her, of all things. When Emma chastised her for apologising for things  _ way  _ out of her control or expertise, she hugged her and marched away before Emma could see that her eyes were glassy. Emma was not fooled.

 

She talked Varric into letting her have lunch in public, using Josephine’s fussing about morale and people seeing her looking well as leverage. He had also been paying attention to the general mood around camp.

 

Dorian scooted in next to her while she was managing some broth and finding her appetite not very high. “You look well, considering you were recently existing in a waking nothingness. Your hair may even have improved.”

 

“You can thank Josie for that one. I thought my bed head was perfectly appropriate, considering the circumstances.”

 

“The Ambassador is evidently a much smarter woman than you.  _ Bed Head,  _ as you call it, is never appropriate.” She smacked him lightly across the shoulder. He paused, thoughtful for a moment. “I am pleased you are awake. It would be a shame for my only friend in the South to be taken away.”

 

“You think after everything you and Maxwell have been through that he is not your friend?”

 

“Perhaps. Though you-” He paused to boop a finger to her nose. “-little hummingbird, are the only one to openly declare yourself so.”  _ Huh.  _ She filed that bit of information away for later.

 

“Emma.” Cullen stood a few metres away, looking bewildered to find her there. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Okay, I think. A little tired. It’s been a busy morning.” He shot Varric a dirty look. “Cullen, do you remember Dorian? Dorian plays chess too.”  _ Distraction,  _ she thought triumphantly.

 

Both men looked at her and asked in tandem. “How do you know I play chess?” 

 

Varric chuckled.

 

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen. I believe I need to lie down.”

 

On her way back to her tent, she stopped in at Maxwell’s again and nobody was in there so she crawled under the blankets and fell asleep wrapped around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma laughed quietly. “How are you though.? Not physically. The other stuff.”
> 
> “Fuck, Emma. Not now. I can’t.” His voice wavered and she felt the guilt of pushing too far squeeze her chest. “Just lay with me. Talk about anything else. Distract me. Please.”
> 
> “Wait until you see where we’re going.”
> 
> “Is there already a plan? Some fancy noble nearby agree to put us up?”
> 
> “Not exactly. Talk to Solas. He knows.”
> 
> “And what is it that I know, shira’lan?” He observed her with sharp eyes as he entered, immediately moving to check Maxwell’s healing. 
> 
> “Where to find the place that holds back the sky.”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Comments are love and sustenance. <3


	53. Dawn Will Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Emma.” Cullen stood a few metres away, looking bewildered to find her there. “How are you feeling?”
> 
> “Okay, I think. A little tired. It’s been a busy morning.” He shot Varric a dirty look. “Cullen, do you remember Dorian? Dorian plays chess too.” Distraction, she thought triumphantly.
> 
> Both men looked at her and asked in tandem. “How do you know I play chess?” 
> 
> Varric chuckled.
> 
> “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen. I believe I need to lie down.”
> 
> On her way back to her tent, she stopped in at Maxwell’s again and nobody was in there so she crawled under the blankets and fell asleep wrapped around him.
> 
> Author's Note: OMG OVER 300 KUDOS'!!! I remember three months ago when I started this baby fic and posted for the first time feeling super scared that a) no one would read it or b) no one would like it. Now there's over 300 hearts and over 130 subs. Thank you always for your love and comments <3 You've made this project so fun and fulfilling.

 

 

Emma woke to squeezing and firm kisses on her forehead. “You sent a strange boy to guide me back. You saved me, again.”

 

She looked at him, confused. “I’ve never saved you.”

 

He rolled onto his back and pulled her across his chest. “Have. Now hush. Don’t turn this into an argument. I’m happy to see you, sweet darling.”

 

“You seem to be feeling well. I’m glad.”

 

“You just say that because you want to get out of this freezing camp. Don’t lie. I know you were stealing my body heat while I slept.”

 

Emma laughed quietly. “How are you though.? Not physically. The other stuff.”

 

“Fuck, Emma. Not now. I can’t.” His voice wavered and she felt the guilt of pushing too far squeeze her chest. “Just lay with me. Talk about anything else. Distract me. Please.”

 

“Wait until you see where we’re going.”

 

“Is there already a plan? Some fancy noble nearby agree to put us up?”

 

“Not exactly. Talk to Solas. He knows.”

 

“And what is it that I know, shira’lan?” He observed her with sharp eyes as he entered, immediately moving to check Maxwell’s healing. 

 

“Where to find the place that holds back the sky.”

 

He stopped, looking at her sharply. “And did you see this before or after we closed the Breach?”

 

She looked at him quizzically.  _ What kind of question is that?  _ “Before…” She wasn’t sure if this was some sort of test she was about to fail and tried to smooth her face even as her heart rate quickened a bit. She was sure Maxwell felt her tense but he said nothing.

 

Solas merely nodded, leaving the implied question unanswered. “Skyhold,” he affirmed. “I do indeed know the location of a fortress we can retreat to that sits between the mountains and the sky. It is well positioned for defense and has been abandoned since before the fourth blight. It could belong to the Inquisition.”

 

“Solas, that’s amazing.”

 

“I would ask something in return.”

 

“I’m not sure what I have to give you. You might be better off asking Leliana, or Josephine.” Maxwell pushed himself upright a little for the conversation. Emma shifted with him, protectively pulling the blankets up to cover him more fully.

 

“You are their leader, at the least a figurehead for this organization. This request is for you.” To his credit, Maxwell did not argue. “The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you, it is Elven. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. I do not yet know how he survived, nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb’s origin. They were foci, used to channel ancient magicks. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire’s magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it.”

 

“You worry the elves will be an easy target as this whole mess plays out.”

 

Solas inclined his head in acknowledgement. “History has taught us this. I would prefer the Inquisition provide a distraction, a purpose and direction and perhaps, to the extent it can, an example.”

 

Emma looked at him in surprise. What did he mean?

 

“An example of what, Solas?” Maxwell seemed equally intrigued. 

 

“My people have fallen far. I would have them treated as equals, where it is within my power to do so. If the Inquisition sets an example, perhaps it will be noted elsewhere.”

 

“You think I have the power to do this?”

 

“The Inquisition is a powerful force; a wave crashing upon the shores of tradition. What changes it brings to the shoreline will not be easily undone.” He spoke to Maxwell but Emma could feel that the words were equally directed towards her. That conversation felt so far away, like it had happened in another life. It was not the message she had been intending to impart, but she thought it interesting that it was the one he took.

 

“Of course. I will do what is in my power to ensure the Inquisition treats all races as equal.”

 

“You should do more,” Emma blurted. Both men turned to look at her. “If you treat everyone as equal but they don’t come from equal places, then nothing changes. You have to make an extra effort to be inclusive and make space for the elves.”

 

Solas smirked. Maxwell rolled his eyes. “How is that not what I said?”

 

“Okay, if an elf and human are otherwise equal and want to do the same job, who do you hire? Who do you promote above others? You think it’s a coin toss but it’s not. Humans are prejudiced against elves. They’re considered less competent. Even when a human doesn’t think that consciously, they’ll still hire the human because of habit. A human will hire another human without even noticing that’s their preference. You have to encourage putting elves into positions where they can bring change. Do you see?”

 

Maxwell pulled her in and kissed her on the forehead. “You are too clever for your own good. You’re going to start an uprising. Very well, Solas. The Inquisition will be your wave.”

 

Emma was no longer listening.  _ You’re going to start an uprising.  _

 

She needed to be careful.

 

\--

 

They had been arguing for awhile. The advisors. Maxwell had fallen asleep shortly after Solas left and it appeared no one had let them know there was a plan.  _ Shouldn’t Maxwell be somewhere having a deep discussion with Mother Giselle? _ She looked down at him affectionately. It was possible he had been injured worse because of her actions. In any case, he needed the sleep. She snuck out of the tent and began looking for Mother Giselle.

 

She found her, near the yelling but apart and watching. “With time to doubt, we turn to blame,” she said by way of greeting and explanation both. “Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.”

 

They watched the advisors disperse to ponder next steps separately, despondent without direction. “Maxwell has a destination for us, a place to gather and regroup. He is sleeping now but perhaps a little hope would still be helpful to get us through the dark night?”

 

“You do not believe you can offer this hope?”

 

“It is not my place. It is for Maxwell to guide us physically and for you to guide them spiritually. This is your flock, revered mother. Your voice can soothe better than mine.”

 

Mother Giselle smiled, looking thoughtful. She began to sing as Emma wandered to the fire, sitting beside Varric and leaning a head on his shoulder. It was moving to watch the camp slowly come together as she had seen them do before. Leliana’s voice did credit to her moniker but Emma mostly found herself listening for Cullen’s warm baritone. She turned her head towards it. He hadn’t seen her yet and he looked so calmed by the song that she was glad of it.

 

_ Perhaps, even with the lyrium- No.  _ She had seen videos of a lyrium-addicted Cullen during Trespasser. She could not fall in love with him if that was so soon his path, though she would fight like mad to fix it.  _ And the epilogue.  _ She shuddered.

 

“You okay, Visions?” Varric grasped her hand with his. She nodded into his shoulder.  _ It’s not me who’s not okay.  _

 

Upon hearing her nickname, Cullen’s eyes swung to hers. He smiled and she offered a small one back. “It’s your turn, you know.”

 

“My turn for what?”

 

“To sing something.”

 

A low chuckle from behind her informed her that Blackwall was listening. “You sing?”

 

“Very poorly and only when drunk.”

 

“We could make that happen.”

 

“No.” Cullen was firm. “Her mind is still healing.”

 

“Come on, future cheeks, sing us a song.”

 

Emma stared hard at Sera. “Future cheeks?!”

 

“Because the future comes from between your cheeks. And, you know… cheeks.” She pointed at her bottom to emphasize her point before rolling onto her back in a fit of giggles.  _ Did she just make a talking out my ass joke? _

 

“I must admit, I am curious to hear a song from your home.”

 

“Et tu, Cassandra?” Emma sighed. Evidently the crowd was against her, and it kept growing so she’d better finish before it became even larger. She thought a bit, what could she sing after something like The Dawn Will Come? She refused to stand, or even move her head from Varric’s shoulder. She wasn’t ready to perform in that way. “Well, I’m going,” she began, her voice gentle and slow. “Where the sun leads me on. 

Where I’m bound to ginger tea and sickly dogs

Where I always disappear but I’m never really gone

Yes, I’m going to where the sun leads me on

 

I am loathe to lose anything

I chose to refuse many things

 

Yes, I’m leaving ‘til the sun brings me home

‘Til I’m no longer lost, just free to roam

And in this life, may I never be alone

‘Cause I’ll be going ‘til the sun brings me home

 

Yes, I’m leaving where the sun calls my name

Where the skies shed their weight and cease to rain

I have gone but forever I remain

To be changing while the sun stays the same

Oh, for the life of me

I’ll be changing, but the sun stays the same.”

 

No one said anything for a bit after she finished. “You are a wonder, dearest Emma.” She turned to see Maxwell, smiling and standing with Dorian. Solas was a bit behind, watching. Maxwell stood a little bit straighter, his posture prefacing an announcement. “Everyone should get a good rest tonight. Tomorrow, we head north.” He took Emma’s hand to help her up and gestured with his head for the advisors to follow.

 

“I take it you have a destination in mind?” Cassandra was, as ever, to the point.

 

“A fortress, long since abandoned. The Inquisition may take up residence there, unchallenged. It will require approximately three days to get so many supplies and civilians there. Once there, we can regroup and determine our best course of action for defeating Corypheus.”

 

Emma watched him with a little smile. She knew in that moment there was no chance he would not be made Inquisitor, despite the little changes her presence had brought. He was every bit the leader they needed, despite his occasional reticence and uncertainty. He smiled back at her. Perhaps things would be alright.

 

She turned to leave the meeting and saw Cole, fluttering in the shadows. “You told me the dawn would come but I did not understand,” he said as she approached. “They are better now. More quiet. They see the sun and move towards its light.”

 

“I’m glad. Can I ask you a question?”

 

“I was here but hidden. You want me remembered so now I stick.”

 

“You will stay, right Cole?” 

 

“I want to help. You help people. He helps people but different.”

 

“Different how?”

 

“Not doing help. Being help. Sometimes you are help too, but him more.”

 

“Yeah. He’s pretty amazing.”

 

“I will stay.”

 

“I’m glad.”

 

“Emma, may I walk with you for a moment?” Cullen reached out and touched her wrist. She had no idea how long he’d been there.

 

“Sure. Cole, you-” He was gone. She shrugged and followed Cullen when he began walking. “Did you want to talk about something?”

 

“You should be cautious around that creature. I think it might be a demon.”

 

“He’s a spirit of compassion. He came here to help.”

 

“So it says. Spirits and demons are one and the same.”

 

“In a way, perhaps. But Cole is unique. We are not in danger from him.”

 

He gave her a look, a look that said she was foolish and reckless woman, but he tactfully changed the subject. “Your song was beautiful.”

 

She huffed a breathy laugh. “You should hear the original. It puts my version to shame.”

 

“No need. I already know I will prefer yours.” She didn’t know what to say. He so casually tugged on her heart. It was dangerous. “I hope you will get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow will be tiring.”

 

She started. They were at her tent. “Commander, did you just subtly walk me home so you could ensure I went to sleep at a decent hour?”

 

His lopsided smirk answered her question. “I will be right here if you need anything.” He pointed to a large red tent next to hers, looking nearly identical to the command tent in Haven. She had been put right next to him. They practically shared a wall. She looked at him. His eyes were soft, warm. Was there no part of him that resented her for running?

 

“Good night, Cullen.” She touched his shoulder in farewell and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Okay, Solas. What consequences do you need to warn me about?”
> 
> “I was able to bring your mind back to this Fade. That is to say, the one in our current time. It is probable, if my theory is correct, that you will no longer be able to commune with spirits from your time. You have likely lost your visions.”
> 
> Emma sat down, hard. Solas thought she would not be able to tell the future anymore. How was she supposed to navigate this change? “How certain are you?”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: If you missed the posting of [Difficult Choices](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923598/chapters/34571522) and are interested in voting to choose what happens, voting closes tomorrow! Thought I'd drop an FYI since AO3 went down shortly after I posted it on Wednesday. There are clear front runners but it's still open enough that your vote could make a difference!


	54. Bad Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “You worry the elves will be an easy target as this whole mess plays out.”
> 
> Solas inclined his head in acknowledgement. “History has taught us this. I would prefer the Inquisition provide a distraction, a purpose and direction and perhaps, to the extent it can, an example.”
> 
> \--
> 
> She started. They were at her tent. “Commander, did you just subtly walk me home so you could ensure I went to sleep at a decent hour?”
> 
> His lopsided smirk answered her question. “I will be right here if you need anything.” He pointed to a large red tent next to hers, looking nearly identical to the command tent in Haven. She had been put right next to him. They practically shared a wall. She looked at him. His eyes were soft, warm. Was there no part of him that resented her for running?
> 
> “Good night, Cullen.” She touched his shoulder in farewell and went to sleep.

_ It was grey. A swirling mass. Nothing. _

 

_ Emma gasped, fighting to pull in air. She could hear her ragged breaths. The rational part of her knew it wasn’t the same. She had a body, had her senses.  _

 

_ Still. The grey void was suffocating her. _

 

_ She felt him and turned. Even against the backdrop of nothingness, his figure was reassuring. “Solas.” She hurdled into his arms, burying her face into his chest. “Help me.”  _

 

_ After a beat, he stroked her hair. “Shh.” He made calming noises. “This is just a dream. You are safe, ma’falon. This is the Fade.” _

 

_ She felt him move and when he put his hands on her shoulders and stepped away, the grey was replaced with the open field where he’d brought her before.  _

 

_ Emma took slow, calming breaths. She looked at him, watching her and assessing. As her awareness returned she froze.  _ What am I doing? Jesus H Christ. Did I really just run to the Dread Wolf and beg him to help me? What in the actual fuck is wrong with me? 

 

_ She cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she murmured, stepping further back. “Sorry. That was irrational.” _

 

_ “Why did you not simply change it yourself?”  _

 

_ “I can’t do that. I can’t just wave my hand and change the Fade like you can.” _

 

_ “You did so last night almost without effort.” _

 

_ “I did no such thing?” _

 

_ “Ah. So the cute and fuzzy forest creatures came out on their own, did they?” _

 

_ “What? Yes? I don’t know.” _

 

_ “Perhaps you should think on it, shira’lan. You might find you have more power here than you think.” He paused, looking concerned. “You have not asked me about your injury.” _

 

_ She tilted her head, considering. “What question should I ask?” _

_ “And now you ask the most efficient question.” He huffed. A tiny laugh before his face grew serious again. “I would ask about possible consequences.” _

 

_ “Okay, Solas. What consequences do you need to warn me about?” _

 

_ “I was able to bring your mind back to this Fade. That is to say, the one in our current time. It is probable, if my theory is correct, that you will no longer be able to commune with spirits from your time. You have likely lost your visions.” _

 

_ Emma sat down, hard. Solas thought she would not be able to tell the future anymore. How was she supposed to navigate this change? “How certain are you?” _

 

_ “It is conjecture only, but I do not see how any other result is possible.”  _

 

_ She pursed her lips. “Have you shared this with anyone else?” _

 

_ “I have shared such with the Herald, the spymaster, the ambassador, and the commander. It was pertinent as we discussed your prognosis.” _

 

_ “No one said anything.” _

 

_ “It is an unpleasant conversation.” _

 

_ “So they sent you to do the dirty work?” _

 

_ “Not at all. I believe I merely feel the knowledge is important and not worth sparing your feelings. Certainly you would discover the truth for yourself eventually.” _

 

_ “I need to think. Can you wake me up?” _

 

_ He frowned. “You should rest.” _

 

_ “I can’t. I’ll be just as anxious thinking about things here, only my body won’t be aware how tired I am by tomorrow night.” _

 

_ A fatigued sigh. “Very well. Have your wakefulness, ma’falon.” _

 

\--

 

Her eyes opened. It was dark, and quiet, and likely still the middle of the night. Maybe two or three at the latest. 

 

Solas had said she wouldn’t be able to see the future anymore. 

 

_ Shit.  _

 

If she continued to predict things, then he would return to his investigation of where she comes from instead of feeling clever for his deduction. If she does not continue to predict things, how could she possibly help? Would they even want her around anymore?

 

She sighed and rolled over. What the hell should she do? She could possibly get away with a few things that triggered memories of dreams she’d had and suddenly made sense. Not many though, and how would she prioritize? She had some time to decide, at least. Nothing would happen until they got to Skyhold and there were three days of travelling to manage. She could think on it. 

 

She heard what sounded like a startled grunt. She stilled, listening and waiting. A pained moan, and it was close. She pressed her hand against the edge of her tent. She knew exactly what it was. Cullen was having one of his nightmares just on the other side. 

 

She hesitated, wanting to wake him and comfort him but also not certain if she should.  _ Fuck it. He’s still my friend.  _ She dropped her feet to the floor and padded out into the cold. She could see the lights of various patrols circling the camp, and she was sure there were lookouts who were less visible, but no one was nearby. She ducked into his tent before she was seen.

 

He was twitching and rolling in his sleep, making little noises. It would have been cute if it wasn’t a sign that he was trapped in some horrid situation caused by his PTSD. She knelt next to his cot and put a hand on his shoulder. “Cullen,” she whispered. He didn’t respond. She shook his shoulder a bit. “Cullen.” A little louder this time. “Cullen!”

 

He grabbed her wrist and launched out of bed, rolling her underneath him, a hand on her throat was firm but not choking. He snarled. “Demon.”

 

She was terrified but she saw his eyes slowly starting to focus and wake so she willed her body into calmness and waited. 

 

“Maker... Emma. What are you doing here?” 

 

“I couldn’t sleep and I heard you... You were have a nightmare so I thought to wake you.” He looked confused while his brain slowly processed events. “Maybe we could continue this conversation when you’re not on top of me?”

 

Emma was amused watching his reaction as his eyes cast over their bodies and took in what was happening. He was shirtless and crouched over her, with one hand pinning a wrist over her head and the other clasped around her throat. She was dressed only in his shirt, not bothering to put on more layers merely to duck into the next tent over. His shirt was normal large enough to cover anything she might want covered. Except now. Now after being pushed to the ground, it had twisted and bunched up to her waist on the left side. Cullen’s eyes paused hungrily on the exposed skin of her hip, above her smalls and below the gathered fabric of the shirt. He licked his lips. His eyes returned to his hand, still on Emma’s throat and he made a strangled noise and rolled off her. 

 

“You should warn a girl when you tell her to come to you if she needs anything that she might be fighting off a grouchy lion in order to get to her commander.” He held out a hand and helped her to her feet.

 

“I did not think. My nightmares have not been as bad recently because of the-” He cut himself off. 

 

“The lyrium.” She finished for him. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it? It seemed… unpleasant.”

 

He bristled. “I am not a child who needs to be coddled because they have had a bad dream.”

 

She was surprised for a moment.  _ He didn’t react like that in the- Right. Not a game. Real human.  _ She considered the idea that she hadn’t earned that level of trust and intimacy. Which was fair. More than fair. 

 

Still, she knew him pretty well and his eyes were pleading with her even while his words rebuked her. A different tact then. “You’re not the only one who sometimes has bad dreams,” she mumbled, shivering from the chilly air, even inside the tent.

 

“You must be freezing. You’re barely dressed.” Emma blushed but he wasn’t really criticizing her. He was shoving blankets aside and pulling her down into his bed before wrapping her back up in the blankets. “Are you okay?” He crouched in front of her.

 

“I was dreaming about when I was…” She stopped and looked down at her fingers where she was picking her at her thumbnail. 

 

“Unconscious?”

 

“I wasn’t unconscious. Not really. I was aware, completely awake, but I was… I don’t know, in a sort of void. There was nothing and I couldn’t get out. I know it was only a day but it could have been a hundred years. I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t  _ remember  _ things. I thought I was going to lose my mind.” Her voice trembled. She hadn’t realized how affected she was. Now, after a nightmare and the creeping dread crawling through her body just from talking about it… It was apparently worse than she’d thought.

 

He reached a hand up to her face and his thumb swiped a tear away before his palm settled on her cheek. She brought her own hand up to cover it, closing her eyes and stopping herself from crying properly. She came here to support him, after all. Hadn’t she?

 

“It sounds terrible,” he said softly. 

 

She huffed, annoyed. “It was shit, but it was nothing compared to the shit that seems to happen all the time. I didn’t have to fight my way to freedom through an army of my friends corrupted by red lyrium. I wasn’t transported to the future where I saw my friends being tortured. Besides, even yanked into nothingness, I had Solas to rescue me.” She snorted. “He even rescued me from the fake nothingness in my dream just now.”

 

Cullen tensed, suddenly pulling away and pacing the tent.

 

“Are- are you okay? Did I say something?”

 

“I am fine. I apologize. I am reacting irrationally. I know this. Yet my emotions are not being easily calmed.” Emma could see it on his face, jealousy and guilt. She shifted uncomfortably and his expression changed to one of concern. “I am unlikely to sleep any further tonight. If you would prefer to sleep here, I could wake you if you have another nightmare. No Solas necessary.”

 

“Oh. I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she muttered softly.

 

“I only want to help you, Emma.”

 

“I know. I do. It’s just… Cullen, you kissed me and I ran away and we haven’t talked about it.” She blushed at the tactless spill of words that tumbled from her mouth. 

 

“I see.” He moved to a chair sitting next to a travel desk and collapsed into it heavily, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. “I’m not sure what there is to say. I care about you, a great deal, but I respect your feelings on the matter. I am content to be your friend if that is all you can offer me.”

 

Emma nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted at all but it was for the best. “Okay. Yes. I- I would like to stay if you don’t mind.”

 

He smiled at her, crooked and warm. “I would not have offered if I did.”

 

She curled up on his cot, dragging the blankets overtop of her and watched him work for a little while before the insistent tug of sleep pulled her away. When the nothingness threatened her again, he woke her with a soft brush of his hand on her cheek. She threw her arms around his neck in relief and he let her pull him onto the cot and curl into him. He fell asleep on top of the blankets, wrapped around her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “There’s a mage that I’m quite certain was never in Haven. I was keeping an eye on him and he’s been watching you, staying close.”
> 
> “Do you think he’s Venatori?”
> 
> “It’s a good bet. Plum robes. Dark hair. Clean shaven. Metal staff.”
> 
> Emma raised her arms over her head, stretching upwards in her saddle before twisting her back to either side as though stretching out discomfort. She spotted him. “Surely the mages would have noticed if he’s not one of theirs? Surely Leliana would know!”
> 
> “You’d be amazed what people can miss in a crisis when they’re feeling self-interested.”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Happy Monday! Curious, would you let the Dread Wolf comfort you? Also, do you pretend to not know the future anymore or take the risk? What do you think Emma will do? Would you have stayed with Cullen or played it safe and gone back to your own tent?


	55. Safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “I only want to help you, Emma.”
> 
> “I know. I do. It’s just… Cullen, you kissed me and I ran away and we haven’t talked about it.” She blushed at the tactless spill of words that tumbled from her mouth. 
> 
> “I see.” He moved to a chair sitting next to a travel desk and collapsed into it heavily, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. “I’m not sure what there is to say. I care about you, a great deal, but I respect your feelings on the matter. I am content to be your friend if that is all you can offer me.”
> 
> Emma nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted at all but it was for the best. “Okay. Yes. I- I would like to stay if you don’t mind.”
> 
> He smiled at her, crooked and warm. “I would not have offered if I did.”

Emma woke feeling warm, and safe. She took a deep, contented breath. It smelled like leather and herbs and sweat.  _ Wait, what?  _ Her eyes flew open. Her head lay on Cullen’s shoulder and her arm was curled onto his chest- his very bare and muscular chest. She looked down to where one of her legs had emerged from the mess of blankets and also found it sprawled across him. Seeing his hand resting on her thigh sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. She could feel the tip of a finger sitting just under the edge of her bottoms, like his hand had shifted upward as he slept.  _ Shit.  _ A vague memory of another bad dream and being comforted might have explained how she found herself here.

 

She heard the stirrings of others waking outside. She started to pull away and felt his hand grip her reflexively, tugging her back towards him. “Cullen,” she squeaked in protest. 

 

His eyes popped open. “G’morning,” he rumbled, and oh, what his husky morning voice did to her. He dragged his hand down her thigh as he pulled it away to stretch. She wasn’t sure he even realized how they had been laying. She quickly scrambled away. 

 

“I- I have to get dressed,” she mumbled and darted back to her tent as quick as she could.

 

Shit, but she was screwed.

 

\--

 

Emma somehow found herself riding on a horse while nearly every other member of the Inquisition walked. The horses were carrying the injured, the elderly, pregnant women, and mothers with young children. There were so many children. It was amazing she had never noticed before. And there was her. Obviously. Because no one felt she was recovered enough for a full day trek through the snow. The fact that Maxwell had been physically injured and she hadn’t didn’t seem to make a difference, he was allowed to scout ahead and she was stuck at the back on this stupid horse.

 

Okay, it was a very nice horse; a gentle grey mare. Mostly she was just grumpy because of the guilt. She was sure someone else could use it more than she could.

 

“How in the void did you manage to be mounted for this blighted trek?” Dorian synced his steps with the slow plodding of her horse.

 

“Do you want to switch?”

 

He smirked up at her. “Depends. On whose instructions are you not walking?”

 

“I’m afraid I was ganged up on. Maxwell, Cullen, Josephine, and Solas all agreed it was for the best.”

 

“Then not a chance, little bird. I would rather like to stay on the Herald’s good side and having recently experienced one of the elf’s lectures, I would not risk another one." He wrinkled his nose at the memory as h e playfully numbered off his reasons on his fingers.  "Josephine I respect too much to go against her wishes. As for your commander, I hesitate to incur his wrath.”

 

“He’s not  _ my _ commander.”

 

“I see. So he didn’t ravish you in the Chantry a few days ago then?”

 

Emma blushed. “You know about that?” 

 

“Oh, my dear. The place was hardly empty at that hour.” She blushed harder. She hadn’t even noticed. “A word of advice? Try lying next time. There are so many rumors flying about that many contradict each other.”

 

“I try not to lie to my friends unless it’s necessary.”

 

“Ah. There’s the catch. ‘Necessary’ is relative - and you just told me he’s not your commander.”

 

“He’s not. We’re not… It’s complicated.”

 

“You should tell him that. The way he kept by your side, made sure you were safe. Even during the attack, you were-”

 

“Please stop. Dorian, I can’t talk about this right now.”

 

“I am sorry, my friend. Expect a more pleasant topic imminently.”

 

“Is the topic you?”

 

“Why, of course! Can you think of a better one?”

 

A derisive snort sounded behind them. “Leave it to a ‘Vint to complain about walking and demand to talk about himself all day. It’s amazing we haven’t destroyed your Imperium already if your compatriots are anything like you.”

 

Emma and Dorian both whipped around, bristling defensively. “Your ignorance is repugnant. There is nobody like me,” he preened.

 

“Firstly. I told you to  _ be nice.  _ Second, were you eavesdropping this whole time?” Iron Bull grinned in response. “May as well have stayed quiet if you were looking for gossip.”

 

“Nah. You were about to switch to a  _ much _ less interesting topic.”

 

Dorian grumbled to himself and stalked off. Bull chuckled as he watched him leave. 

 

“Must you do that? You could try to make friends. You’ve done it with Krem.”

 

“He’s the one who’s prejudiced. I’m just toying with him a bit. Besides, I had to get rid of him.”

 

Something in the tone of his voice sent shivers up her spine. “Why?”

 

“So I could warn you quietly. That one has all the subtlety of a hungry druffalo.” He kept his voice conversational, but quiet. He looked as though they could be discussing the weather or food.

 

Emma faked a smile and a light laugh. She put on her best teasing voice. “Warn me about what?”

 

“There’s a mage that I’m quite certain was never in Haven. I was keeping an eye on him and he’s been watching you, staying close.”

 

“Do you think he’s Venatori?”

 

“It’s a good bet. Plum robes. Dark hair. Clean shaven. Metal staff.”

 

Emma raised her arms over her head, stretching upwards in her saddle before twisting her back to either side. She spotted him. “Surely the mages would have noticed if he’s not one of theirs? Surely Leliana would know!”

 

“You’d be amazed what people can miss in a crisis when they’re feeling self-interested.”

 

“Shouldn’t he be sticking closer to Maxwell?”

 

“You’re an easier target.”

 

“Gee. Thanks.” Iron Bull merely shrugged. Facts were facts. “What do I do?”

 

“For now, we watch and wait. You stay close to me and I protect you.”

 

She swallowed. “That can’t be it.” Her eyes darted furtively in the direction of the mage. 

 

“Relax, Kitten. I’ve got you.”

 

When they stopped for lunch, Iron Bull was there first to lift her off her horse. He brought her lunch and ate with her, joking jovially the whole time while she pretended to be just as carefree. When they moved on in the afternoon, he kept next to her horse again. She could see people looking at her and her new bodyguard curiously. No doubt this was feeding a different segment of the rumour mill. Others moved in and out of their conversation fluidly but Bull was her shadow and she was pretty sure he was playing into whatever interpretation people might want to take from it. He flirted with her, he put his hand on her thigh, he puffed up his chest when other men came near. He was making his presence seem natural rather than strategic. It was a bit funny to imagine those attentions eventually turned towards Dorian.

 

“You should stay in the Commander’s tent again tonight.”

 

Emma jerked her head around to look at him. “How did you know about that?”

 

“I notice things, Kitten. Listen, Krem and I are going to get to the bottom of this tonight. You need to stay with someone who can protect you in case he is startled and tries to act.”

 

“I’ll see if I can stay with Maxwell. I’m not sure that staying with Cullen is a good idea.”

 

“Whatever works for you. Just don’t tell him why in the open. You never know who might be listening, or on the wrong side.”

 

That night she made her way through the camp towards the front. She saw Chargers scattered about, keeping half an eye out, but she felt exposed and vulnerable without Bull next to her. She wanted to get to Maxwell sooner than later but there was a whole village of people setting up tents and campfires to wade through. Every once in awhile she could see him, the man in the purple robes, out of the corner of her eye. He was definitely following her. She only hoped Bull had noticed.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut briefly. This was The Iron Bull. He had noticed. She would be okay.

 

Maxwell was sitting with Cassandra, Solas, and the advisors. They were deep in conversation, looking serious. Part of her stomach twinged. Now that they believed she didn’t know the future, they were so quick to organize without her. A selfish thought, but it still hurt.

 

Maxwell turned at her approach, standing to pull her into a hug. Everyone else’s eyes rose with him, appearing almost startled to see her. “What are you doing up here?”

 

“Umm… Can I speak to you for a minute?” She glanced furtively at the rest of the group, feeling exposed and useless.

 

He led her a few metres away, holding her lightly by the elbow. “How are you after all this travelling, my dearest love?”

 

Emma snorted. “You put me on horseback. If anything, my legs are sore from disuse. I  _ will  _ be walking tomorrow.” Not entirely truthful, they were sore from rarely used muscles that gripped the horse but the point remained the same. She could walk.

 

“A half day,” he countered.

 

An eye roll. “Fine. A half day. Can I sleep with you tonight?”

 

His eyebrows furrowed. “Of course. What’s wrong?” 

 

Emma looked around. She couldn’t see the mage but she followed Bull’s advice. “I’ve been having nightmares. I would feel better knowing you were close by.”

 

Maxwell kissed her forehead and brought her by the hand back to the campfire. Cassandra handed her a bowl of stew and the group settled into silence.

 

“I think it’s time I was updated on casualties during the attack.” Emma’s voice cut through the contemplative meal. “How well did our preparation serve us?”  _ Did I make the right call to insist we stay there? _

 

“There were minimal civilian deaths. The Chantry served well as a gathering point.” Leliana smiled kindly. “We lost all our people who were manning the outposts. They were simply not defensible.”

 

“And soldiers?”

 

“Seventeen thus far. More wounded. Some of whom will not make it.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t even really know how that measured up to the destruction in the game. Was the number low? High? “We did well, my lady.” Emma looked at Cullen in surprise. He rarely used that title anymore, even when in public. She couldn’t read his face. She pressed her lips together tightly, determined not to ask.

 

“How have you been since you woke?” Josephine asked, concern heavy in her voice.

 

“I’m not an invalid. You can stop looking at me like that, I’m fine.” 

 

“She means to ask whether you have had any of your visions since then?”

 

Emma looked up, surprised. Cassandra wasn’t the best at tact and she could see Cullen and Josephine both glaring at her. Apparently Solas told them she had been updated.

 

“No. Not yet.” She stared into her bowl, her cheeks suddenly hot and flushed. 

 

“Don’t worry, I’m certain they will return.” The Seeker pat her leg consolingly. “The Maker has a plan for us all. He-”

 

“Emma is not Andrastian.” Solas said the words as though he were commenting on the colour of her hair or her dress, not revealing that she did not adhere to a near universal religion. Everyone stared at him in shock before slowly turning their eyes to her.

 

“You must be joking. Surely you do not worship the elven gods?”

 

Emma sighed. “No, but there is no Chantry where I’m from either. No Maker and Andraste. There are a dozen different religions instead. Yours would be considered fantasy.”

 

An awkward silence followed her words. The group felt farther away than ever, like an irrevocable harm had been done. Eventually they began to disband, seeking rest after a long day. After awhile, only herself, Maxwell, and Cullen remained. Cullen seemed to be waiting for something, his every movement indicating restlessness and concealed intent. “May I have a word?”

 

She would be safe with him, she knew. But what if after their conversation he left in a different direction than she needed? She looked around. There was no sign of the Venatori that she could discern, but it was dark out so he could be anywhere. “Can we stay close?” Her voice was small, embarrassed.

 

Cullen’s expression shifted, uncertainty and maybe resentment. She must have sounded like she did not trust him or want to be alone with him. “It is not important. I only wished to ensure you felt safe tonight before retreating to bed. Goodnight.”

 

She watched him walk into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “We caught him starting a blood ritual just outside the tent. It was enough proof to bring him to the Commander.”
> 
> “He was so preoccupied with his ritual that he didn’t even hear us approach. Chief clocked him in the back of the head and he went down like nothing.” 
> 
> Seemed like the noises Maxwell heard were worth waking up for after all.
> 
> “Ser!” A shout from down the line of tents was heard as Rylen came jogging up. “The prisoner!”
> 
> “He’s escaped?” Cullen’s sword was drawn and he was marching in that direction. Maxwell had burst out of the tent at the call, still pulling on pants.
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Oh no! Stalked by Venatori and outed by Solas! What do?
> 
> Also, Difficult Choices is up (check it out if you haven't yet!) and I've fixed the voting issue when I first posted it so if you could only vote on the first question before, you can vote on the other two now.


	56. Cole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Shouldn’t he be sticking closer to Maxwell?”
> 
> “You’re an easier target.”
> 
> “Gee. Thanks.” Iron Bull merely shrugged. Facts were facts. “What do I do?”
> 
> “For now, we watch and wait. You stay close to me and I protect you.”
> 
> She swallowed. “That can’t be it.” Her eyes darted furtively in the direction of the mage. 
> 
> “Relax, Kitten. I’ve got you.”
> 
> \--
> 
> “She means to ask whether you have had any of your visions since then?”
> 
> Emma looked up, surprised. Cassandra wasn’t the best at tact and she could see Cullen and Josephine both glaring at her. Apparently Solas told them she had been updated.
> 
> “No. Not yet.” She stared into her bowl, her cheeks suddenly hot and flushed. 
> 
> “Don’t worry, I’m certain they will return.” The Seeker pat her leg consolingly. “The Maker has a plan for us all. He-”
> 
> “Emma is not Andrastian.” Solas said the words as though he were commenting on the colour of her hair or her dress, not revealing that she did not adhere to a near universal religion. Everyone stared at him in shock before slowly turning their eyes to her.

_ Emma was in her kitchen. Cookie dough was splattered everywhere and John was swiping chunks off her face and popping them in his mouth. “At least it’s tasty,” he laughed. It was half dream, half memory.  _

 

_ Emma flicked her spatula at him, getting cookie dough on his cheek. “I forgot to lock it in and turned the speed way up,” she admitted. _

 

_ She leaned over the bowl, looking at the pitiful remnants of cookie dough that hadn’t ended up across cupboards and counters. The brown goo began to swirl and lose its tone. It pulsed and increased in volume. She blinked rapidly. It grew again. _

 

_ “Uhh… John?” She turned but he was no longer there. She turned back towards the bowl, the greyish mass was overflowing now, replacing the space it invaded with nothingness. _

 

_ Emma stumbled backwards, her back hitting the opposite counter.  _ Okay, wake up now. You just have to wake up.  _ Nothing happened. She was transfixed, watching the void slowly overtake her kitchen. Her breathing increased. “Solas?” No response. _

 

_ She retreated into her living room and her kitchen was quickly swallowed by the nothingness. She had to leave. She turned towards her front door only to see an empty wall where it should have been. “Shit. Shit, shit.”  _

 

_ He was beside her then, a reassuring hand placed lightly on her elbow. “Will it away, shira’lan. Change what you are seeing.” _

 

_ “I can’t, Solas. I can’t even make a door where there is supposed to be one!” She pointed at the empty wall as though he would know about her front door.  _

 

_ He flicked his hand and the tiny movement created an open door in the wall. It looked nothing like her front door and it led into a field of wildflowers but it was better than the encroaching void. She jerked towards it, only to have Solas’s hand tighten around her elbow. “Wait. You have your escape. Be calm, and try to change this.” _

 

_ “I can’t!” She tugged away from him but she was no match for his strength. “Let me go!” _

 

_ He did, and followed her where she bolted out the door he had created. “You must learn to control your emotions if you are to control the Fade.” _

 

_ “I can’t control the Fade. I told you that!” _

 

_ He watched her, hands clasped behind his back, as she sank into the bed of flowers and shook. “Perhaps we will start with something simpler.” _

 

\--

 

When she woke in the morning, Maxwell was snoring lightly. She had told him quietly once they were alone in the tent about the mage and, even though she had insisted that Bull and Krem were on it, he had woken frequently during the night at the slightest noise. Eventually, exhaustion had to win out and he finally entered a deeper sleep in the early morning hours. She was glad. The effects of him waking her with his startling exhausted her -  so she was sure he needed it. 

 

She slipped out as quietly as she could into the cold morning air, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she was faced with Iron Bull, Krem, and Cullen sitting around a campfire not ten feet away.

 

Cullen stood and strode briskly to her. He reached his hand out and gently held her elbow, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “I did not know. I am glad you are safe.”

 

“We caught him starting a blood ritual just outside the tent. It was enough proof to bring him to the Commander.”

 

Emma pulled her face away from Cullen to give Iron Bull a grateful smile. Cullen stepped to the side to open their moment to the group but his hand remained on her elbow, a gentle tether between them.

 

“He was so preoccupied with his ritual that he didn’t even hear us approach. Chief clocked him in the back of the head and he went down like nothing.” 

 

Seemed like the noises Maxwell heard were worth waking up for after all.

 

“Ser!” A shout from down the line of tents was heard as Rylen came jogging up. “The prisoner!”

 

“He’s escaped?” Cullen’s sword was drawn and he was marching in that direction. Maxwell had burst out of the tent at the call, still pulling on pants.

 

“He’s dead.” Everyone stopped moving.

 

“Was it suicide?” Bull crossed his arms, annoyed.

 

“No. His throat has been cut.”

 

“How did you let this happen? We needed him for questioning.” Cullen’s face was thunderous.

 

Rylen stood taller. “I swear to you, I did not take my eye off o’ him. I watched as his throat began to bleed and he dropped to the ground.”

 

“Take us to his body.” Maxwell pushed past Cullen, grasping Rylen by the shoulder and moving in the direction the Lieutenant led.

 

Emma looked up at Iron Bull. “Come on, Kitten. At least you’ll know he’s dead.” She nodded, following the others with a Charger on either side.

 

“I don’t sense any active magic,” Rylen commented as they approached. “This is definitely the man you arrested, dead.”

 

“He looks as though his throat was slit from behind. Two slices, two daggers drawn in tandem.” Maxwell pursed his lips. “You truly saw nothing?”

 

Rylen’s gave one stiff nod as he stood over the body, arms crossed. 

 

_ Dual daggers. Wasn’t seen. Shit. _

 

“Umm… Cole?” Emma’s voice wavered into the air, nearly catching on itself and barely audible. She probably didn’t really need to give voice to her request anyways. He was there.

 

“He was hurting you.” His voice was quiet, childlike under the gaze of a dozen eyes. “I wanted to fix the hurt.” 

 

Emma lowered her own voice, caring and soft, and reached for his hand. It was bony and cold in hers and she held it gently lest it crack and crumble. “Cole, we don’t kill people just to fix hurts. Especially when they’re in custody already.” She prayed for him to understand. Other than Maxwell, she could feel the willingness to cut him down where he stood from every presence in their little group. She was half worried that they might do it.

 

“They can’t. I will blink away, nothing there and nothing remembered.”

 

“That’s not the point, Cole.”

 

“He was hurting them too.” He looked at Iron Bull. “Claws not long enough yet. Still too little. Relax, I’ve got you.”

 

Bull shifted awkwardly. “What is that? What is he doing?”

 

Cullen crossed his arms, clanging the metal on his greaves together. “‘He’ is an it. A demon-”

 

“Spirit.”

 

“-who has now murdered a captured prisoner.” He turned to Emma. “Is this what you meant by here to help? How long until it kills one of us? Until it kills you? It has to go.” Bull shuddered and his eyebrows narrowed in agreement.

 

“No.” Emma pulled Cole slightly behind her. “He’s still learning but he will. He was trying to help by eliminating something that was fraying all our nerves.”

 

“Emma…”

 

“Sweat on the sheets. Heart pounding. She dies there sometimes but when you wake she comes back. Oh!” Cole smiled. “He liked it when you were there afterwards. It helped.” The rising blush spreading up Cullen’s neck distracted him momentarily.

 

“This isn’t the best time for that, okay hon’? Look, he’s a spirit of compassion. He was just trying to make us feel better.”

 

Bull growled. “It’s a demon. Demon’s are bad.”

 

Maxwell was wary. “I’m not sure it’s that simple, Bull. He helped me make it from Haven to everyone and he was… very comforting.”

 

Rylen rolled his eyes. He and Krem were silent, letting their bosses do the talking, but it was clear that their feelings were very much aligned  _ against  _ the spirit in question.

 

“Herald, we cannot allow this thing to stay.”

 

“Your call, Boss. But the Commander is right.”

 

Maxwell looked legitimately torn. Emma locked eyes with him and took a deep breath. “If he goes, I go.” He looked genuinely shocked. She heard Cullen protesting that she couldn’t leave, asking why she would put herself so far out for that creature, but she ignored him. She watched Maxwell as his face fell.

 

“Of course, he can stay. I wouldn’t send you away for the world, Em.”

 

\--

 

“You are sad. I can make them forget. Then they won’t be confused and angry anymore and you can be happy.” Cole was flitting alongside her horse, keeping her company. She was at the front this time. Watched. Of course.

 

“No. They need to remember. Don’t worry.” She patted his hand fondly. “They’ll come around eventually. They’re just scared.”

 

“I do that a lot.”

 

“I did that too when I first showed up.”

 

“Questions. Guards. A wolf in my brain. Will I get through this?”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

“He always trusted you. He trusts me too but he doesn’t like that he let them down.”

 

“Yeah.” She flashed Maxwell a smile and he smiled back. It was tired, worn out by all the fighting, but warm and genuine.

 

\--

 

“Come with me,” he grumbled as he stalked past her. Startled, Emma handed her brush to Blackwall and left her horse with an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He hadn’t spoken to her all day. He was angry, she knew this. Perhaps he felt betrayed. Still, she trusted him. She would follow him anywhere without question.

 

Okay, she was shite at the ‘without question’ part.

 

This time, she did her best to stay quiet and follow. He ducked into the command tent and she followed suit. He wasn’t looking at her when he began to pull off his gloves and unbuckle his greaves. “You’re staying here tonight,” he said, his eyes firmly fixed on freeing his forearm from its metal confines.

 

Emma looked around and noticed the second cot set up behind her. No one had bothered to set up his travel desk for one night, leaving plenty of room. Her belongings had been brought and were sitting on the cot. “Okay,” she shrugged. She could do this for him.

 

“At least this way, I have a chance to protect you if that de- spirit comes and decides you need to die next.”

 

“Cole isn’t going to hurt me. He thinks I help people. But I will stay with you if it makes you feel better.”

 

“I don’t want to fight with you about this.”

 

Emma laughed. “I’m not fighting with you. I said yes, you goon.”

 

He looked confused for a half second. “So you did. I- I had a whole speech prepared. I wasn’t truly listening.”

 

“You know, some say listening is an important part of having a conversation.”

 

He sighed, seemingly deeply exhausted. “I am sorry. It’s only, sometimes you are so stubborn.”

 

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” She laughed again, reaching out to take his hand. “But I am happy to cede to your wishes on this one. Just don’t tackle me again if you have another nightmare, okay?”

 

He smirked at her teasing. “No promises. I quite liked being on top of you.” He froze, his eyes wide. “Maker’s breath! I apologize. I should not have-”

 

“It’s fine, Cullen. I’m not going to be upset because a friend makes a sex joke. It would ruin far too many of my conversations with Iron Bull.”

 

He blushed but did not protest, only continued fiddling with his armor. “Umm… Cullen?” A grunt affirmed that he’d heard her. “I don’t normally sleep in my day clothes?”

 

He looked up at her, head tilted to the side while he slowly interpreted the subtext behind her words. “Oh. I’ll just...” He pointed his finger behind him and turned so Emma could change. “You didn’t happen to pack any books in your evacuation pack, did you?” His hand was awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, as though asking to continue their tradition was somehow embarrassing.

 

Emma smiled as she pulled a tunic over her head. “Like I would leave signed copies of the great works of Varric Tethras behind.”

 

“Could we, uhh…”

 

“Chapter Twenty Six…” She began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma scrambled up the rest of the slope, passing the advisors to join Maxwell and Solas. She had energy enough for this. The great fortress spread out before them, enormous in comparison to what she remembered. Wafts of cloud hovered at its base, giving it an other-worldly feel. “Solas,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
> 
> Author's Notes:
> 
> 1) Do you let Solas teach you to control the Fade? Would you stick your neck out for Cole? (I get the feeling that the community is super divided on him as a character.) 
> 
> 2) Reminder that the voting for [Difficult Choices](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923598/chapters/34571522) closes tomorrow, so if you haven't had a chance yet or are interested -- get on it! One of the votes is SUPER close. (PS - I won't update on D.C. in this fic forever, just until it gets in more of a regular rhythm)


	57. Skyhold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Herald, we cannot allow this thing to stay.”
> 
> “Your call, Boss. But the Commander is right.”
> 
> Maxwell looked legitimately torn. Emma locked eyes with him and took a deep breath. “If he goes, I go.” He looked genuinely shocked. She heard Cullen protesting that she couldn’t leave, asking why she would put herself so far out for that creature, but she ignored him. She watched Maxwell as his face fell.
> 
> “Of course, he can stay. I wouldn’t send you away for the world, Em.”
> 
> \--
> 
> Hey look! It only to 57 chapters to make it to Skyhold *rolls eyes at own inability to get on with it*

 

They were almost there. She could tell by the way Solas hovered close to Maxwell, something in his demeanor intense and almost excited. She was immensely relieved. This was it. This was the moment. Not to mention that training had not prepared her for six hours of uphill hiking through the snow. A tiny voice suggested she shouldn’t have insisted on giving her horse away and a louder voice shouted at that one to shut its whiny mouth.

 

On the plus side, she had Dorian’s delightful whingeing to accompany her. Despite the beautiful muscles she knew he had under his robes, he was not a hiker. Dorian was too pretty for hiking.

 

Emma looked up. Maxwell and Solas stood at the crest of a hill, staring down into the valley below. Maxwell turned, wonder and exhaustion across his face in equal measure. “We’re here,” Emma gasped.

 

“About bloody time. I swear, all this wind and snow-reflected sunlight is horrid for my complexion.”

 

Emma scrambled up the rest of the slope, passing the advisors to join Maxwell and Solas. She had energy enough for  _ this.  _ The great fortress spread out before them, enormous in comparison to what she remembered. Wafts of cloud hovered at its base, giving it an other-worldly feel. “Solas,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

 

He snorted. “It is Fereldan and highly utilitarian.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s beautiful for what it represents, you jerk. Yeesh. Way to ruin a moment.” 

 

Maxwell was staring back down the mountain. “We’ll need to set up an infirmary first. The injured have been traveling for three days. They will need rest and care… And the families will need somewhere to stay until we have housing available for them. We need to assess the food situation-”

 

“Maxwell. We’ll be okay. Let’s get across that bridge first, then we’ll gather everyone we need and start organizing tasks together. You don’t have to plan everything on your own.”

 

He exhaled, long and slow. He squared his shoulders and continued forward.  _ The world is too much for one man’s shoulders. We need to take some of that weight to get our Maxwell back. _

 

\--

 

As soon as they entered Skyhold, leadership temporarily became a well-oiled machine. It was as though the place somehow calmed and motivated everyone. Cullen and Solas worked together to find space to set up the healers and the injured. Leliana organized scout patrols to find the best routes in and out of the mountains, as well as potential places for Cullen to set up watchtowers and defenses. Cassandra was organizing the civilian families and sorting temporary accommodations for them while Varric distracted the children with tall tales. Bull and the Chargers were working with the cooks to inventory and organize the food stocks -- and the alcohol. Blackwall, Lysette, and Rylen were setting up temporary barracks. Josephine and Vivienne were writing to their contacts, beginning the spread of information about the Inquisition’s success at the Breach, Maxwell’s sacrifice and rising from the dead once again, and their new stronghold.

 

Sera was somewhere with a supply of rope and buckets and it wasn’t suspicious in the least.

 

Cole was nowhere to be seen but Emma was certain he was helping in his own way.

 

Emma, Maxwell, and Dorian were exploring and mapping the fortress. 

 

“You’ve been quiet,” Maxwell commented. “Worried the place is going to fall down around our ears?”

 

She had been quiet. As they had been moving out of the main courtyard, she had noticed Solas watching, quiet and assessing. The thought had struck her that they were in his house now. It made her nervous and when they locked eyes, his expression became one of explicit consideration. It was a knowing look. It said ‘I have to decide what to do with you’, and she wasn’t sure what that meant. Her heart had begun pounding and she could only hope she’d turned away before her face betrayed her.

 

“It seems a reasonable concern,” she responded shakily, sidestepping the question.

 

“Nonsense. There is clearly magic here that has been set up to preserve the structures.” Dorian had a ball of light floating in his hand and he moved it around to highlight the stonework as if it was completely apparent. 

 

“There, see?” Maxwell pulled her into a side hug. “Nothing to worry about.”

 

As that wasn’t truly her main concern, she was not reassured. “As you say,” she responded mildly. “Hey Max, did you know that Dorian doesn’t think you’re friends?”  _ When uncomfortable, deflect and stir up mischief _ .

 

“What?” Maxwell turned to a flustered Dorian in surprise.

 

“Well, I mean, that’s not exactly what I-”

 

Maxwell reached out his hand to Dorian’s shoulder. “You must know that there’s no one I’d rather be stranded in time with. Future or present.”

 

“Of course. I’m an excellent choice for stranding. Useful. Handsome. Witty conversationalist.”

 

“And a friend.”

 

“Hm. Quite. Let’s continue, shall we? The sooner we finish, the sooner I can shake all this dust out of my robes.”

 

Emma hummed in agreement, distracted by their back and forth. “I would love a bath.”

 

“You are quite ripe, dear girl,” Dorian smirked.

 

She snorted. “Thanks.” They continued moving. One of Dorian’s spells mapping out the fortress on parchment as they walked. It was distinctly handy.

 

“We’ll make sure you get a room with an ensuite and your own tub this time.”

 

“Whatever for? I can just continue to steal yours.”

 

“You know, one of these days I might have company.” Maxwell was striding ahead but she noticed Dorian’s eyes flicker towards him before moving back to examine the fortress. “I can’t always be out killing demons and saving the world.”

 

“Oh, really?” She prodded. “Anyone catching your eye?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He chuckled.

 

“I would. There’s been a suspicious lack of gossip lately.”

 

“Untrue. You simply don’t hear it because half of it is about you.”

 

“Great,” she groaned.

 

“Do not whine. Take pride in the fact that people find you interesting,” Dorian chided.

 

“There is only one thing worse in life than being talked about, and that is not being talked about?”

 

“See, Maxwell? She can be taught.”

 

Emma froze as they entered the next room. It was a mess but the way they light shone from above and bounced around the rounded room made it clear. It was the rotunda. “Everything okay?” Maxwell stopped and turned to her with concern.

 

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just… I’ve seen this room before.”

 

Maxwell looked around nervously. “You didn’t see anything scary happening, did you?”

 

She laughed. “No. Nothing like that. Come on, the library is upstairs.” She ran up the steps, taking them two at a time despite her small stature. The room was everything she’d dreamed. Books filled the walls and spread across the floor. Dusty panels of light came in through the windows. 

 

“Not too shabby for a long abandoned Fereldan fortress. There might actually be a work or two of worth amongst this rubble. I'd compare it to the personal collection of a relatively low-ranking magister, anyways.”

 

“Just mark it on the map and let’s keep going.”

 

“I’m going to stay here,” Emma breathed.

 

“What? In the dusty books?”

 

“Oh yes.”

 

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “Alright then. Come along Dorian.”

 

“Try not to get lost when you leave.”

 

The men continued upwards to what would become the rookery and Emma sat, back against the wall, next to a pile of books that she started going through one by one.

 

\--

 

“You can’t tell me there’s anything in here that’s not drier than straw kindling.”

 

“Huh? Oh. I- I found this book of Dalish lore. It’s wonderful.”

 

“It’s been four hours, Visions.” He handed her a plate of bread, slightly stale, with cheese and jam. “People are starting to worry you got lost or injured.”

 

“Does lost in a good story count?” His flat look made her smile falter. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just lost track of time.” She began to tear into the food, not realizing how hungry she was until it was in front of her.

 

“You can bring it back with you.”

 

“I will. Let me just eat a bit and then we can go.” He nodded, leaning against the rail and waiting. “Hey Varric? Are you going to write Hawke now that we’re settled here and Corypheus has shown up.”

 

His face dropped. Guilt and surprise in equal measure replaced his previously bemused expression. “I told Cassandra that I didn’t know where he was. Repeatedly.”

 

“Perhaps you should remedy that before he arrives?”

 

“She’ll be pissed either way.”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “Max and I can go with you?”

 

“That would be nice. At least then she’s less likely to take a swing at me.” He paused, fingering at his collar. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

 

“I don’t know if there was a right thing, Varric. All I can say is that he’s alive and he might not be if he’d been at the Conclave.” It was her turn to pause, considering her next words. “And that I probably would have done the same.”

 

\--

 

Cullen was leaned over his makeshift desk, looking thoroughly miserable. Emma couldn’t help it, her feet carried her there without instruction. “Everything okay?”

 

“Names,” he said, holding a piece parchment limply in his hands. “A list of everyone who died in the attack and trying to get here. I have to write their families.” 

 

Emma reached out her hand to his forearm. “Can I help? I could scribe for you?”

 

“No. It should be my hand.” Emma looked down to the parchment, he was crunching it in his fist now. She reached out, gently opening his fingers and pulling it out. “We had every advantage and still I could not save them,” he gritted out. He sighed, leaning forward onto the desk. “We did well. Our losses could have been much worse. It is only… I had not had to notify next of kin for more than a single individual in four years until the Conclave. It brought back memories of what happened in Kirkwall and in..." He let his voice trail off. "Since then, it has seemed that it will never end.”

 

“It will end, Cullen. I promise. One day, this war will end and you won’t have to write any more of these.”

 

He closed his eyes, sitting with her words for a moment. “May I…” He didn’t finish the question but the way his hands twitched asked on his behalf and she quickly moved in to wrap her arms around his neck. “I should not show such weakness,” he whispered into her hair.

 

“It won’t hurt your soldiers to know that their Commander cares about their lives.” 

 

His only response was to pull her a little closer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma was heading to the courtyard to see what other jobs needed to be done when a hand grabbed her arm and began walking purposefully, carrying her along. “Hello darling herald of mine. Where might we be off to this fine afternoon?”
> 
> “You dragged me into Varric’s mess, so you’re coming along to join in the fallout.” He said it with a wry smile and shake of his head but, underneath, there was real worry. “He’s buttering her up right now.”
> 
> There was yelling as they approached a closed door. “So much for buttering,” Emma sighed as they pushed open the door.
> 
> \--
> 
> Author's Note: They finally made it! Any one else count the library as their favourite place in Skyhold? It has Dorian AND books AND delightful bird noises from upstairs that probably mean no one will both to shush you. If not, what IS your favourite place in Skyhold? Also, are we shipping Maxrian yet? Are we? I still can't tell :o
> 
> Also, apologies for any hearts I broke a bit with the Cullen scene.


	58. Inquisitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Hey Varric? Are you going to write Hawke now that we’re settled here and Corypheus has shown up.”
> 
> His face dropped. Guilt and surprise in equal measure replaced his previously bemused expression. “I told Cassandra that I didn’t know where he was. Repeatedly.”
> 
> “Perhaps you should remedy that before he arrives?”
> 
> “She’ll be pissed either way.”
> 
> “Probably.”
> 
> “Definitely.”

Emma’s arms were sore. Days of hauling rubble out and supplies and furniture in had tested her strength in ways that wielding daggers had not. She understood now why everyone in this game was so ripped. Her own muscles had grown exponentially even before she hiked for days and then carried around heavy objects for a week. After this? She was practically Cassandra.

 

_ Okay, maybe not _ , she thought as the woman strode past her.

 

“Hey Cass?” She called. “Can I ask you something?”

 

The woman stopped and put down a large whetstone she had been carrying on her own. Somehow. “Is there anything you need?” Things had been slightly awkward between them since the older woman discovered Emma’s lack of belief in the Maker. She was still courteous, even amicable, but slightly wary.

 

“Where are all the children?”

 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I am not certain what you are asking.”

 

“It just seemed like I never saw them in Haven and then while we were in camp that there were children everywhere and shortly after we arrived here they disappeared again.”

 

“They are with their parents, of course.”

 

“But their parents are mostly working.”

 

“Yes. They will be working alongside their parents.”

 

“The children.... Are working?”

 

“Of course. Most of the children in Haven were poor. How else will they learn the trade of their family?” As realization settled over her, Emma stalked off in the direction of the kitchens. She had only ever been once while in Haven and she had been looking for someone specific. Had she really been that blind? 

 

She had. There were half a dozen children in the kitchen, blending in by virtue of working just as hard as their parents on mixing, chopping, cleaning -- whatever needed doing. Four of them were elves. 

 

_ I’m a privileged fucking idiot,  _ she thought as she retreated to go to the laundry. Kids there too. Two youth in the smithy. One in the stables. They were everywhere. So visible as to be completely hidden.  _ Fucking hell.  _

 

She went searching for Josephine. “Ah, good. I had wanted to speak with you, my friend.” Emma’s steps faltered. She hadn’t been expecting that. “On a couple of points, really. We have a room ready for you, and we also have a meeting this afternoon that we would like you to attend.”

 

“Oh. Umm… Okay? I wanted to talk to you too.”

 

“Of course. I have preparations, however. Can we speak this evening?” Emma nodded. “Good. After the meeting then, we will speak and I will show you to your new quarters.”

 

_ Welp. So much for that plan.  _

 

Emma was heading to the courtyard to see what other jobs needed to be done when a hand grabbed her arm and began walking purposefully, carrying her along. “Hello darling herald of mine. Where might we be off to this fine afternoon?”

 

“You dragged me into Varric’s mess, so you’re coming along to join in the fallout.” He said it with a wry smile and shake of his head but, underneath, there was real worry. “He’s buttering her up right now.”

 

There was yelling as they approached a closed door. “So much for buttering,” Emma sighed as they pushed open the door.

 

“How could you lie to me all this time?” Cassandra slammed her fists on a table. Varric stood with his hands in front of him, both placating and defensive.

 

“You kidnapped me and interrogated me. What did you expect? I was trying to protect a friend.”

 

“And why do you tell me now? You give me this letter like it is supposed to fix things that you are only now writing to him for aid?”

 

“I thought it would be more respectful than waiting until he arrived. Emma said-”

 

“Emma said?” Cassandra turned to her. “How long have you known about this?”

 

She didn’t answer the question. “No one here could have changed what happened at the Conclave, Cassandra. I’m sorry but what’s done is done.”

 

“No. Hawke was the Champion. He could have saved Most Holy if only  _ he  _ had not kept him hidden!” She stabbed a finger towards Varric, looking to Maxwell for support.

 

“Varric’s not at fault.” Cassandra’s face was disbelieving at Maxwell’s assertion. “He was trying to protect a friend, as anyone would have.”

 

“He was protecting himself, as he always will.”

 

“You’re angry,” Emma started. “I get that… but I think you know that you’re being unfair.”

 

The Seeker shook her head. “I… acknowledge that I did not explain. If I had explained what was at stake…”

 

Varric shrugged. “Honestly Seeker? I’m not sure there’s anything you could have said that would have gotten me to give up Hawke.”

 

“I believed you, Varric. You spun your story and I fell for it completely. Maker, I am such a fool.”

 

“Good thing I still like you,” Maxwell quipped.

 

Emma tugged on Varric’s arm lightly, guiding him out of the room. “Let’s go. He’s got this.”

 

\--

 

“Where’s Maxwell?” Emma asked as she took a seat for the afternoon meeting. It appeared to be a dining room of some sort but the room was private enough. The war room had evidently been a low priority as they settled in.

 

“The Herald will not be part of this discussion.” Cassandra looked to Leliana meaningfully. “We must discuss the future of this Inquisition and his role will be part of that discussion.”

 

“I’m not sure what you want me for? I haven’t had any dreams yet. You’ll be among the first to know if I do.” 

 

“Emma,” Josephine clucked at her. “You have been a part of planning and strategy in this organization for months now. You do not require knowledge of the future to have insight and meaningful opinions.”

 

_ Oh.  _ A flood of relief and pride left her feeling warm as Emma’s fears of being abandoned were so suddenly ameliorated. 

 

“We need someone to lead us. I am far too Orlesian to be acceptable. Because of our alliance with the mages, the Commander and Cassandra are not politically advantageous to keeping their support.”

 

“And I do not have the patience for the more social aspects of the position.” Cullen snorted at Cassandra’s admission. “Neither do you,” she shot at him in response.

 

“Josie might be an option.” Leliana continued. “But she feels that her particular skills would be undermined by the position. As for yourself, it is best for your role that you remain somewhat mysterious. We need to choose when and how you appear carefully.” Emma blinked. She hadn’t even considered that she would, well, be considered.

 

“We had thought to elevate Maxwell to the position of Inquisitor,” Josephine finished.

 

“There is another option.” Cassandra leaned forward, resting her forearms across the table. “Varric admitted earlier today that he knows where the Champion is. He has written to urge Hawke to come to Skyhold.”

 

“The Champion is no longer in hiding? Oh, that is interesting,” Leliana mused.

 

“His title would certainly add to our growing notoriety.” Josephine tapped her quill thoughtfully against a stack of parchment in front of her. “And his role defending the mages in Kirkwall will help solidify our alliance with them.”

 

“He may bring connections to certain operators that we would not otherwise have access to due to his time in hiding.” Leliana’s mind was whirring ahead.

 

“You mean underground connections?” 

 

“Of course.” Emma rolled her eyes affectionately at the Spymaster’s line of thinking.

 

“What do you think, Cullen? You have been very quiet,” Cassandra commented.

 

“I am hardly a political strategist.” Emma tilted her head. He seemed gruff and withdrawn somehow.

 

“That hardly prohibits you from having an opinion.”

 

Cullen sighed, crossing his arms. “I think Hawke is mostly a good man and has done some remarkable things. He is innovative, creative, and a talented mage. I also think he is erratic and, while he can motivate people to support him, he is not a stable leader. I think it unlikely that four years on the run has done much to change that.”

 

Cassandra grunted. “All that time I was insisting we track down Hawke to lead this Inquisition and you said nothing.”

 

“You brought me on to lead your troops Cassandra, not to choose your figurehead. There was still the Conclave and the hope of peace. There was also little in the way of obvious alternative at the time.”

 

She turned to Emma. “And you, what do you think of this opinion?”

 

“Emma only knows the Champion through Varric’s book, Cassandra,” Leliana reminded gently.

 

“Actually.” Emma dragged out the word to emphasize her ability to speak for herself. “I know more about Hawke than you might think. I might not have been in Kirkwall but I saw parts of it nonetheless.”

 

“You saw the Champion in your visions?” Josephine appeared utterly fascinated, and then flustered by a look from Cassandra. “I apologize. It is only, I have heard he is quite handsome.” A guilty smile.

 

“I did see him. I think Cullen is right. He’s not the one to lead us. Maxwell may not have had the name recognition before, but his popularity is growing. He’s also practically been leading since the explosion. You cannot pretend that he hasn’t made a number of decisions that have affected the course of this organization with positive results.”

 

“It is also worth considering that Hawke’s friendship with that apostate would likely end any chance we have of bringing what remains of the Chantry to our cause.”

 

“He executed him for his crimes!”

 

“Nonetheless.”

 

Cassandra sighed. “You are all against me. Very well. Perhaps I have been too fixated on my plan. The Herald is a good man and will make a good leader, if he accepts the role.”

 

“He might not,” Leliana acknowledged. “He has been reticent in the past.”

 

“I will convince him.” Cassandra’s face was firm. 

 

\--

 

Emma watched in courtyard as soldiers and civilians alike cheered for the new Inquisitor. Maxwell raised the sword triumphantly, declaring an eventual end to Corypheus and a better world for all, but Emma saw the bit of doubt that lingered in his eyes. Still, he put on a good show.

 

“He’s worried he’ll let them all down.”

 

“I think that’s to be expected, Cole.”

 

“He hopes you were listening.”

 

“I’ll let him know that I was.” Cole vanished and Emma looked around for a moment, confused. She hadn’t realized their conversation was over. Josephine’s approach provided a possible explanation. 

 

“Come. I will show you your room and we can speak on the way.” Josephine linked arms with her and Emma allowed herself to be led.

 

“I wanted to talk about the children here.”

 

“Oh. That is not what I was expecting. What about them?”

 

“What kind of education do they receive?”

 

“All children receive knowledge of Andraste and the Maker. Ah, but you are not Andrastrian and are not asking about religious knowledge, are you?”

 

“No. I’m not. Reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, history? When do they learn these things?”

 

Josephine giggled. It was friendly but it carried a flavour of indicating that Emma was  _ just too cute  _ to be asking these things. “The children here are not nobles, Emma. They do not have have need of these things.”

 

“Why not?” She was defensive, trying not to move to anger. This was not her world and there was no reason to expect it to carry her norms.

 

“How would it help them to earn a livelihood? Better they spend the time learning their family trade. Certainly if they pledge themselves to the Chantry then they will learn some of these things so they can better serve the Maker but-”

 

“That is unfair. How can they ever be expected to live the lives they wish if they don’t even have these basic skills? What if they don’t want to continue with the family trade? What if a farmer wants to become a merchant, or a scribe? They should have a basic set of skills that they can take with them anywhere.”

 

“Well, that is a lovely idea but we do not have tutors for every child and we could not afford such a thing even if they were available.”

 

“That’s hardly necessary. Put the children in groups of similarly aged kids and have them learn as a group.” The remainder of their walk across Skyhold was Emma endeavouring to explain schools and classrooms using Circles as an analogy to a confused but interested Josephine. In the end, she managed to extract a promise to investigate the feasibility of beginning something to that end.

 

“Here we are.” Josephine threw open a door to a modestly sized chamber. “I apologize that it is not more extravagant but I am afraid we have kept many of the best rooms for visitors.” 

 

Emma looked around, feeling extremely pleased. It was not large, but she would have been uncomfortable with too much space anyways. There was a fireplace, a small room for washing with a tub, and a chair and table next to a window. A chest of drawers had already been filled with her belongings, her books sitting on top. “It’s perfect, Josephine. Thank you.” She hoped her gratitude would smooth over whatever rift had been caused by her prickliness earlier.

 

“Wonderful.” A warm smile. The door was closed. Emma collapsed on top of the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She froze at the top of the steps at the sight of Varric, Maxwell and an exceptionally handsome man that could only be Hawke. She stopped so quickly, her wavy curls kept moving forward before bouncing back to rest on her shoulders. 
> 
> “Hey Visions!” Varric called to her. “Come meet the Champion.” Emma’s feet felt like lead weights as she turned to drag them in that direction. For some reason, this felt different than meeting Max. At that time, she had just been glad that she wasn’t carrying the Anchor herself. She had also never played the game as a human male. Hawke, though... Hawke was different. She had played Hawke as male and as snarky in a way that she recognized in Varric’s book. This felt surreal. This felt like she was meeting someone she had once pretended to be. “Hawke, this is Visions.”
> 
> \--
> 
> Author's Note: Seriously, y'all. Where are the children? Refugees coming from everywhere, apparently, and none of them have kids? Gah! What's your head-canon for that? Also, would your Hawke make a good Inquisitor, or no? Why/why not? I want to know!
> 
> Finally, you can find the new chapter of [Difficult Choices ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923598/chapters/34946666) now. Happy Wednesday!


	59. Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “There is another option.” Cassandra leaned forward, resting her forearms across the table. “Varric admitted earlier today that he knows where the Champion is. He has written to urge Hawke to come to Skyhold.”
> 
> “The Champion is no longer in hiding? Oh, that is interesting,” Leliana mused.
> 
> “His title would certainly add to our growing notoriety.” Josephine tapped her quill thoughtfully against a stack of parchment in front of her. “And his role defending the mages in Kirkwall will help solidify our alliance with them.”
> 
> “What do you think, Cullen? You have been very quiet,” Cassandra commented.
> 
> Cullen sighed, crossing his arms. “I think Hawke is mostly a good man and has done some remarkable things. He is innovative, creative, and a talented mage. I also think he is erratic and, while he can motivate people to support him, he is not a stable leader. I think it unlikely that four years on the run has done much to change that.”
> 
> Cassandra grunted. “All that time I was insisting we track down Hawke to lead this Inquisition and you said nothing.”

Emma woke feeling rested. She had felt rested ever since they arrived at Skyhold, having not had a single nightmare in the couple of weeks. She hadn’t seen Solas during that time but she had a strange feeling that he was around, protecting her dreams somehow. It was similar to the sensation when he entered her dreams, but dispersed - like a signature on his magic. The important question was whether he was doing this himself or whether it was caused by his magic existing in Skyhold.

 

She hadn’t seen him in person to ask either. 

 

She’d been busy, true, but she’d also been running all over Skyhold as part of that busyness. She’d entered the rotunda multiple times, and still had not seen him. She was sure he must have a secret room somewhere and that he was plotting away inside of it.

 

Today, however, today she was looking for Cullen. He had promised they could start training again now that a significant amount of work had been completed on repairing the fortress. She strode through the courtyard, scanning left and right for him. “He’s in his new office.” Emma scowled.  _ How did the damned Qunari always know?  _

 

She strode up to the battlements. She knew exactly where she was going, despite not having been ‘in his office’ before. She’d made note of the room when she passed through one day before the renovations were much progressed. There weren’t that many tower rooms with loft spaces and holes in the roof, after all. Her hands rested on the handles of her daggers where they were strapped to her thighs as she jogged up the steps.

 

She froze at the top of the steps at the sight of Varric, Maxwell and an exceptionally handsome man that could only be Hawke. She stopped so quickly, her wavy curls kept moving forward before bouncing back to rest on her shoulders. 

 

“Hey Visions!” Varric called to her. “Come meet the Champion.” Emma’s feet felt like lead weights as she turned to drag them in that direction. For some reason, this felt different than meeting Max. At that time, she had just been glad that she wasn’t carrying the Anchor herself. She had also never played the game as a human male. Hawke, though... Hawke was different. She had played Hawke as male and as snarky in a way that she recognized in Varric’s book. This felt surreal. This felt like she was meeting someone she had once pretended to be. “Hawke, this is Visions.”

 

Hawke grinned and she nearly fainted. He really was gorgeous; roguishly handsome and exactly her type. “I see Varric hasn’t abandoned his tradition of allowing no one their given names.” He let his eyes sweep her over, following the lines of her body closely. Just like that it felt like a different type of surreal.

 

“It’s Emma,” she breathed.

 

He took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “A pleasure then, Emma.” He stared her dead in the eyes as he turned her hand over in his a pressed his lips softly against the inside of her wrist. She shivered and dropped her eyes downwards before casting them to Maxwell, looking for support. The mirth she found there was utterly unhelpful. “You did not tell me that the prophet was so alluring, Varric. Perhaps I would have come earlier.”

 

“Maybe that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. You never did make good decisions when it came to pretty women.”

 

Emma suddenly found herself uprooted by a heavy tackle onto the stone floor, crying out as she fell. Her whole body vibrated with the impact and she could feel at least a half dozen places where she would be bruised by the morning. Her attacker hovered above her, his open mouth panting rank breath across her face and his lolling tongue threatening to drip saliva onto her cheek. The mabari was promptly hauled off her and Maxwell was beside her, lifting her gingerly off the ground. “I apologise, Emma. He  _ was  _ tied up in the stables.”

 

She laughed shakily, cradling the arm she had landed most heavily on. “Apparently he feels it’s imperative that he meets everyone you do.”

 

“Are you quite alright?” Hawke pushed the mabari behind him and crouched down next to her, running a hand up her arm and leaving rough, unfocused healing magic in its wake. “Where else were you hurt?”

 

“I’m only a little banged up. You hardly need to waste your magic on me.”

 

He let another saucy grin play across his face and Emma felt herself also smile in reaction. “Perhaps I am simply looking for an excuse to put my hands you,” he teased, his voice low and suggestive. Emma blushed, not able to think of a witty response as she allowed Hawke and Maxwell to get her back on her feet. As soon as she was upright, the mabari pushed forward to say hello again, his whole body wriggling in excitement as Hawke tried to keep him back. “I am so sorry. He’s not usually this aggressive.”

 

“Seems to me that he takes after his master.” Emma reached down and gave the dog a scratch behind the ear, pointing her attention at the member of the Hawke family that destabilized her less - despite having bowled her over. 

 

“He certainly has similar taste in women to his master,” he smirked.

 

“Snores like his master too,” Varric put forward. Hawke simply grinned, not even slightly put off.

 

“The Inquisitor was about to give me a tour of your fortress. Perhaps you would care to join us?” He asked the question with a sweeping bow, the very picture of chivalry except for the cocked eyebrow that said he was being playful.

 

“I’m afraid I have a prior engagement.” She stepped away, still utterly unseated by his presence.

 

“Very well. I will have to track you down afterwards.” He winked as he turned away with Maxwell and Emma let out her breath in a woosh. The minute his back was turned, she felt a return to herself. It was momentary shock at his forwardness, nothing more. She was certain.

 

“Careful, Visions,” Varric offered from beside her. “Hawke’s not like Maxwell. When he flirts, he means it.”

 

“Okay Papa Varric,” she laughed, confidence and comfort returned. “I think I can handle myself.”

 

She continued towards Cullen’s office to find he had emerged and was watching her approach. “Was that Hawke?” He asked, looking off into the distance where the man had disappeared with Maxwell.

 

“Yeah. He seems to have made good time getting here. Must not have been far.”

 

Cullen made a low noise of acknowledgement. “You should be careful around him.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s what Varric said. ‘Careful, Visions. When he flirts, he means it.’” She put on her best impression of the dwarf which was, admittedly, not great.

 

“I only meant that chaos tends to follow the man.”

 

“Oh.” Emma shuffled her feet awkwardly. She’d stuck her foot in it again. She could practically taste the discomfort in the air. “Come on,” she said bumping her shoulder against his arm. “Let’s go swing pointy things at each other.”

 

\--

 

She was out of practice, clumsy and slow from weeks of disuse. Still, she felt the rhythm of the daggers coming back to her. “Okay. You can stop going easy on me now,” she declared. “I think I’ve got it back.”

 

Cullen laughed. “I don’t think you want to see what it looks like when I don’t go easy on you.”

 

“What? I- You- No. You’re just psyching me out. You’ve gone all in before, right?” A raised eyebrow and twitch of his mouth teased her. “Okay,  _ Commander Rutherford _ , show me what you’ve got.”

 

Cullen moved in, swift and strong. His sword flashed and his shield was everywhere her daggers tried to be. Emma found herself being backed up quickly and, almost before she knew it, his sword was at her throat. She panted. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

 

He smirked down at her. “I like watching you when you’ve gotten a hit in. You get cocky and shit talk like a pirate. Whyever would I give that up?”

 

She glared. “Then we will simply have to find one of the myriad of activities I’m better at than you so I can shit talk about  _ that  _ and you can stop going easy on me.”

 

“As you wish.” Still smirking.  _ Smug bastard.  _

 

They went again and she soon found herself on her back, a sword at her solar plexus. Again, disarmed and her daggers clattering in the dirt. Again, an arm around her waist and a sword at her throat. 

 

As they separated, Emma noticed they had an audience. “This is why he won’t let you out of the house anymore, love. You’re too confident for your skills.” 

 

“Oh? You want to try me in close quarters Mister-Bow-and-Arrow man?” Maxwell only laughed in response.

 

“I will take you in close quarters.” Emma was certain the double entendre was intentional but Hawke was entering the ring and seemed quite serious about sparring with her. “This staff isn’t just for show, you know. I’m quite talented with it as well.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. The double entendre was  _ definitely  _ intentional.

 

Emma felt a wash of nervousness. She had never fought against a mage before. It was probably a good thing to learn but she had always thought she would get Dorian to teach her. Perhaps even Vivienne. Certainly not someone she had only just met that day.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cullen grumbled. “I’ve seen your magic, Hawke. It’s forceful and wild. You’ll hurt her.”

 

Emma expected Hawke to argue, but he didn’t. “Okay then, Rutherford. Let’s you and me face off then.”

 

“Fine.”

 

She rolled her eyes and exited the sparring ring, and promptly decided to leave and have a bath. “Aren’t you going to stay and watch?” Maxwell called to her as she turned away.

 

“Nope. I’ve seen enough dick measuring contests to know how they generally go.”

 

“But whose dick is bigger? Don’t you want to know?”

 

“Oh, that’s easy,” Emma laughed. “Mine is. I don’t need to win a fight to know that.”

 

\--

 

After getting clean, Emma curled up in the library next to Dorian, tucking her feet under fresh skirts and resting her head against his arm rest. He was reading some complicated mathematical formulae that related to even more complicated magical… stuff. She was reading a history (stories) of Calenhad Theirin, the first king of Ferelden. It got dramatic in places, like reading King Arthur. The history of Thedas was more or less equivalent to fantasy on earth, so a good writer made her feel like she was reading a novel rather than a textbook.

 

“So how is your Commander recovering anyways?”

 

“He’s not  _ my-  _ wait, recovering? Did he get hurt?”

 

“Only his pride, I believe. I overheard a couple messengers on their way up talking about how the Champion trounced him in one-on-one combat. I’m honestly not sure how that happened unless he volunteered not to use his Templar abilities - in which case that was simply idiotic. Did you not know they had a match? I thought you were with your Commander today.”

 

“I was. I left before it started. Do you think I should check on him?”

 

“Far be it for me to say. You are your own woman. Of course, if he was  _ my  _ commander…”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. “He’s  _ not  _ my commander, but you have become suddenly insufferable and so I shall leave you and check in anyways.”

 

Dorian laughed in that detestable way that implies he knows something you don’t as Emma abandoned him.

 

\--

 

Hawke and Varric were near the hearth in the main hall when she passed through. She was going to ignore them but Hawke’s mabari had different ideas and pulled her by the skirts until she acquiesced. She was starting to think he had been trained to do that. Did the man really think getting his dog to drag women to his side would work? She looked at him suspiciously and decided it probably did, and quite frequently. He just needed to get them close enough to see how devilishly attractive he was and work a bit of charm. Emma felt a tingling in her toes just from being this close to him.

 

“Bear! What a bad dog you are.” Hawke did not sound serious and the mabari’s full body wag indicated he felt similarly.

 

“You named him Bear?” Emma couldn’t help but let a tiny smile flit across her face. “I guess it’s a better name than Dog?”

 

“Actually, my sister named him.”

 

_ Bethany. She would be dead.  _ “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

 

“By the Maker, I’ll have none of that. It’s been years. Let’s speak of more pleasant things, my lady prophet.”

 

Emma crossed her arms. She hadn’t wanted in this conversation to begin with. “Such as?”

 

He grinned lasciviously and leaned towards her ear. “Hawke,” Varric’s voice sounded in a warning tone. 

 

He pulled back and winked at her. “It seems we might be rankling our chaperone.”

 

“Speak for yourself, Champion” Emma replied. “But I don’t believe that I’m the one who needs chaperoning.” She pivoted on her foot, leaving them with those parting words - and feeling unduly proud of herself for gracefully extricating herself from the conversation before she lost herself in Hawke’s teasing stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “What?” He asked sharply.
> 
> “Just bored. Thought I’d come bother you a bit.” Emma sat opposite his new desk and kicked her feet up onto the surface before scanning around the office. “Very nice.”
> 
> “I do have work to do, Emma.”
> 
> “You? Never.”
> 
> “You’re here because you heard that Hawke won our sparring match, aren’t you?”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Notes: Brief reminder that voting on [Difficult Choices](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923598/chapters/34571522) closes tomorrow.
> 
> Aggressively flirty Hawke is my favourite Hawke. I'm not even sorry. Also, I refuse to believe he would leave the dog behind - so here, have a dog! Bonus head canon: Maxwell has the biggest dick. Probably the prettiest too.


	60. Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: NSFW and TW for lyrium addiction
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “So how is your Commander recovering anyways?”
> 
> “He’s not my- wait, recovering? Did he get hurt?”
> 
> “Only his pride, I believe. I overheard a couple messengers on their way up talking about how the Champion trounced him in one-on-one combat. I’m honestly not sure how that happened unless he volunteered not to use his Templar abilities. In which case that was simply idiotic. Did you not know they had a match? I thought you were with your Commander today.”
> 
> “I was. I left before it started. Do you think I should check on him?”
> 
> “Far be it for me to say. You are your own woman. Of course, if he was my commander…”

She knocked twice in warning but entered without waiting for approval. If he was grumpy, he was liable to simply tell her to go away and she wasn’t allowing that. She opened the door as he hastily slammed shut a small box on his desk. “What?” He asked sharply.

“Just bored. Thought I’d come bother you a bit.” Emma sat opposite his new desk and kicked her feet up onto the surface before scanning around the office. “Very nice.”

“I do have work to do, Emma.”

“You? Never.”

“You’re here because you heard that Hawke won our sparring match, aren’t you?”

“Nah. I know you could have beaten him with a hand behind your back if you’d used your fancy Templar powers.”

“No. I couldn’t have.” Emma turned sharply from her idle assessment of the office to look at him. He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I could barely muster a silence if I tried. I- I stopped taking the lyrium again.”

Emma pulled her feet from his desk and sat up straight. “When?”

“When we were travelling.” He blushed. “I was due for a dose the morning after you came to see me in the middle of the night but you were there and we had slept in and I just felt rested so… I didn’t.”

Emma took a deep breath. “Then can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why is your lyrium kit on your desk now?” A low groan was her only response as he dropped his head into his hands. “Cullen?”

“Because I’m not strong enough,” he hissed at into his palms. “Because I hear it calling me all the time. Because I’ve tried to give up this life twice now and I’ve failed.”

“You haven’t failed,” she said soothingly as she snaked her hand across the desk to the box in front of her.

“Yes. I have.” Cullen opened the lid with determination, reaching inside. Emma grabbed the whole kit and tore it away from him. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Emma. You will return it to me.”

“No. You don’t need it, Cullen. Please. Let me get rid of it. You don’t need it sitting here, tempting you.” He grimaced and pushed away from his desk. Emma also stood and began edging away from him as he moved towards her, trying to buy time by staying away from the hand outstretched for the little kit. “You don’t need it,” she repeated.

“Emma!” He barked. “This is not up to you.” 

“That doesn’t mean I can just watch you self-sabotage!” Cullen put a hand on the lyrium kit. Emma closed her eyes, searching for the words that would fix this fucking mess she’d made as she continued to back away until her back hit the wall. “Listen to me. I will give it to you if you can look me in the eye and tell me this is really what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” He roared, smashing a fist into the wall beside her head and causing her to jump. “I’m sorry. I scared you. I’m so sorry. These cravings make me… It’s not important. I’m sorry.” He pressed his forehead to hers, urging her to forgive him.

“Startled. Not scared. I trust you, Cullen.” She did. Despite being trapped between him and the wall and feeling his tense distress and disquiet, she was sure he would not hurt her.

“You shouldn’t. I’m a mess. I’m no good to anyone without it.”

“I don’t care about any of that.” Her voice was firm. Somewhere in the argument, she’d found her resolve and she wasn’t giving up without good reason. “I just want to know what you want.”

He laughed, a bitter and sad noise that broke her heart. He closed his eyes, his forehead still resting against hers. “I don’t think you do. I don’t think you want to know how every time you’re near me, I crave your touch. How even the most fleeting brush of your hand against mine leaves me thinking about it for days. To know how each time you tease me, I want to capture your grin with my lips and claim it as my own. Even when we quarrel, I wish I could kiss you until you forget all your arguments... Or how when we spar, I want to bear you into the hard ground and fuck you senseless right there. Did you really want to know those things, Emma?”

She could only stare at him in shock. She knew he had feelings for her, he had made that much obvious, but the things he was saying were like nothing she had thought. He was so tightly bottled up, she had no idea. She didn’t know what to say.

He pushed off the wall and away from her, moving his fingers to his brow. “Maker’s breath. Emma, I’m sorry. I should not have said those things. It’s not your burden to bear. I value our friendship and this doesn’t change that." His eyes searched her face pleadingly. "Please, say something.”

She swallowed. It felt like her brain had completely short circuited. “I don’t know what to say.”

He squeezed his hands together, backing away. “You should probably go. This is- I have embarrassed myself enough for one day.”

Emma moved towards him and handed him the lyrium kit, which he accepted passively. “Please don’t take it.”

“... I won’t.”

She looked up into his eyes. They were unfocused, looking beyond her and contemplating.  _ I won’t.  _ He said those words. He said he wouldn’t. The words should have been a balm but she felt as though her heart was being wrung like a wet cloth. She watched, almost surprised, as her own hand reached up to his cheek and he shifted his eyes to hers. His face was prickly with stubble and she could see the dark rings under his eyes. How had she missed it? It was obvious that he hadn’t been taking it again, now that she truly looked. He’d hidden it from her in plain sight. “Cullen, I know you can do this,” she whispered and pushed up onto her toes to brush a gentle kiss across his lips. 

Cullen shuddered, dropping the lyrium kit to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her in to deepen the kiss. She heard it bounce and clatter across the floor. She turned to see tiny blue crystals spilled from a broken cylinder, filling the room with their smell. Emma finally understood what it meant, ‘like air after a lightning strike’. She had smelled hints of it on Templars before but it was never strong enough to notice. She could hear it now too, faint lyric tones humming, calling. Cullen pulled away. His eyes were unfocused, darting about wildly as he tried to maintain composure.

“Hey, you’re okay. Come back to me.” She spoke with forced calm, trying to bring things back to normal with her voice. She needed to pull him back.

He brought his hands up to his face. “It’s so loud.”

He began pacing, stalking about the room like an animal.

“Let’s get out of here. We can get someone to clean it up later.”

“Fuck!” He shook his head and slammed a fist against the bookcase. She could tell from his dazed expression just how much it was in his head. She felt her heart drop into her stomach, anxious to make it better, before he turned and closed the distance between them instantly and crashed his lips into hers. His kiss was hard, greedy, and Emma let out a little gasp at the rough press of his mouth. Her palms flattened against the wall behind her, stabilizing her as Cullen devoured her, his tongue impatiently pushing into her. He pulled her lower lip into his mouth and scraped his teeth along it before swallowing her mouth again. His hand moved roughly through her hair, pulling her closer into him even though he already pressed tightly against her. She could feel his other hand fisting in her skirts, as though trying to avoid grabbing at her.

Quickly, she couldn’t hear the lyrium’s hum. She couldn’t smell it anymore either, instead surrounded by the scent of him. Oaken, herbal soap. Sweat. Leather. She briefly wondered if being this close to her quieted things for him too.

He pulled back, breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide at the sight of her and of his visible claiming of her mouth. She could feel that her lips were swollen and bruised and she raised a finger to touch them gingerly. Cullen watched her intensely and tugged off his gloves. He brought up his bare hand to sweep his thumb across her bottom lip and a barely audible growl sounded in his throat. He ran his finger tips down her throat. He dragged his thumb across her collarbone, brushed the back of his hand across her breast. “You are so soft,” he whispered. “I should be more gentle with you.” Emma shivered under his consuming gaze. He pulled a tendril of her hair loosely through his fingers before embedding his hand back in her hair and tilting her head backwards so he could graze his lips along hers again. 

She felt the stiffness in his body, felt him holding himself away from her and keeping his touch more gentle this time. She wasn’t sure if he was holding back for her or for himself. 

Emma wanted to touch him. He was covered in armour, preventing her hands from exploring his arms, his back, his chest. She reached a hand around the back of his neck instead, twirling the tips of the curls at the back of his head through her fingers. He moaned and deepened the kiss, parting her lips and tasting her with his tongue. She could feel the careful reserve breaking away again as a hand dragged her skirts up her thigh and gripped the bare flesh underneath. 

She responded in kind, kissing him with more fervour and letting the intensity build. She turned her head to kiss her way along his jaw, licking up the shell of his ear and pulling on his earlobe with her lips. He groaned, low and needy, and shuddered against her in response before recapturing her mouth. He pushed forward, wedging a knee between her legs and dragging her thigh up against his side with hard fingers against her skin. Suddenly, she needed both hands around his neck for support, her fingers no longer playing but holding on. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Cullen,” she protested against his lips, thinking he would return the use of her leg to her. Instead he dropped his other hand down to her ass and lifted her up against him, holding her against the wall. She gasped, her fingers scrambling at his shoulders and neck for better purchase and he growled possessively into her neck. The noise was so primal it sent pleasure vibrating through her, straight to her toes. 

“You go nowhere,” he rumbled and swallowed any response she might have had with his mouth on hers. His fingers dug into her thighs, her hips, her ass, regularly shifting to touch and squeeze something new, still holding her in place to service his exploration of her body.

He was becoming hard. She could feel him pulsing and stiffening between her legs. Every shift of her weight in his arms rubbed his length against her and even through their clothes the friction caused little bursts of sensation that she wanted to chase. She would have shamelessly ground herself against him if she wasn’t completely pinned, helplessly subject to what movements he offered. He hoisted her up a little farther, resting her more firmly against his hips and pushing into her and she whimpered at the pressure of his cock against her clit.

He’d noticed her responsiveness. He began to rock his hips, trying to get her to make that noise again, rubbing himself purposefully against her before his eyes closed and he began to rut in earnest, holding her still and rolling his hips, chasing his own pleasure in the action. He pulled her away from the wall with a grunt, carrying her to his desk and sitting her down upon it. As soon as her weight was supported, he moved his hands back to her skirts, frantically rucking them up her legs and sliding his hands underneath. He tensed, stilling the rough slide of his hands. His fingers twitched against her skin. “Please.” His eyes were focused, staring at his hands against her exposed thighs, at his fingers producing little circles of white on her skin around where they dug into her. “Please. I need-.”

“Yes.” His hands were moving before she finished the word, pulling on her smalls and tearing the fabric off her before quickly moving to the top of his breeches to free himself. Cullen dragged her by the hips towards the edge of the desk and sheathed himself inside her in one swift motion, groaning in her ear as he buried himself to the hilt. Her fingernails dug into his neck in surprise as he entered her. She gasped with the sensation, a brief pain before the pleasure of being filled took over and she let out a breathy whine. 

He held her hips firmly and began to thrust in and out of her. Emma wrapped her arms further around him, holding on and bringing herself closer to lick and nibble at his neck, the edge of his jaw, his chin. He took a hand and grabbed the hair at the back of her neck and pulling her head back to expose her throat to him. He curled forward and bit and sucked at her pulse point like he was marking her with his mouth, claiming her as his. 

It was surreal and nothing like the Cullen she thought she knew. She briefly wondered if she should have put a stop to this but then he slammed into her and hit that spot inside her that made her cry out before slowly dragging himself out to the tip and slamming back into her, harder this time. “My name,” he gritted out. When he rammed into her again, sending an explosion of ecstasy through her, she yelled his name and he growled and devoured her remaining moans with his mouth. He dropped his hand on top of the desk, bracing himself as he curved over her body and thrust faster. He dropped his head onto her shoulder and his skin was hot but the little beads of sweat were cold against her skin. She could hear the grunts of his exertion against her neck and she could tell he was close by the way they grew louder, emphasizing each thrust as he pumped in and out of her. His movements became erratic and he clamped his teeth into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, hard, groaning loudly into her skin as his hips stuttered and he spilled into her with a ragged intensity before stilling.

He stayed like that a moment, still but for the panting of his breaths, before pushing himself upright. He looked at her and she could almost see the haze clearing from his mind as the expression in his eyes shifted, instantly regretful. He pulled out of her and dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to her calf. “Emma. I’m so sorry. Maker, forgive me. I am sorry.”

She stared at him for a half a moment before her mind clicked into gear. “Cullen.” At the sound of his name he moaned into her leg, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don’t do that. Please. There is nothing-”

He stood. “I should go,” he whispered as he fixed his clothing. “I am so-” He stopped and shook his head. “I will go.”

"Wait-"

He left.

Emma sunk to the floor, curling her knees up into her chest.  _ Shit.  _ She really fucked this one up. She stayed that way for a bit, replaying everything in her head.

Eventually she steeled herself. She’d have to leave his office at some point. She needed to find him and talk to him.

On her way out, she grabbed the lyrium kit and what crystals she could sweep off the ground by hand.

She threw them off the ramparts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma spun around, her hair whirling around her shoulders with her. She hadn’t heard Cullen enter, despite his not being a particularly quiet figure.
> 
> “Emma.” Maxwell grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her hair aside. “Your neck.”
> 
> She reached a hand up to where he was looking and hissed at the contact. “It’s nothing. It must have happened while training.” Cullen was staring, eyes wide, at the smattering of bruising that must be colouring her skin.
> 
> Maxwell raised a solitary eyebrow. “Ah. Of course. I frequently come away from my sparring matches with bite marks on my neck.”
> 
>  
> 
> Author's Note: Uhh... my hand slipped. I don't know what happened.


	61. Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> He stood. “I should go,” he whispered as he fixed his clothing. “I am so-” He stopped and shook his head. “I will go.”
> 
> He left.
> 
> Emma sunk to the floor, curling her knees up into her chest. Shit. She really fucked this one up. She stayed that way for a bit, replaying everything in her head.
> 
> Eventually she steeled herself. She’d have to leave his office at some point. She needed to find him and talk to him.
> 
> On her way out, she grabbed the lyrium kit and what crystals she could sweep off the ground by hand.
> 
> She threw them off the ramparts.

Emma had been searching all over Skyhold, completely confused about what just happened but certain of one thing: they needed to talk. Not that it mattered if she couldn’t find him. It was evening now and short of waiting in his office for him to retreat to bed, it would have to wait.

She was slowly meandering back to her room, still hoping she might see him, and thought to take the long way through the library. Dorian made for a wonderful distraction.

She didn’t make it there.

Emma froze as she entered the rotunda and saw Solas organizing his desk, and squeaked. “Ah. It is good to see you, ma’falon. I apologize for startling you. This room has remained empty and I thought it would make an amenable workspace.” He gazed around the room as he spoke and Emma wondered if he had decided to make the murals yet. “How are you settling into Skyhold?”

_ Was he making small talk? _

“Okay, I guess.” She eyed him up suspiciously. “I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“No. I have been researching, and wished to do so somewhere that I would be undisturbed by the construction and renovation that has haunted most rooms over the last days.” Emma nodded absentmindedly. “Have you had any further nightmares?”

_ Huh? Oh.  _ “No. Not since we got here.” She paused. “I haven’t seen you there either.”

“We had an agreement. You limited me to two dreams, remember?”

“If everything seemed to be okay.”

“Bad dreams are not an indication of you becoming untethered from the Fade, shira’lan.”

“No.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I suppose not. Hey, Solas?” He raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue. “Have you been doing something? To keep the nightmares away?”

He tensed briefly. “Yes.”

“Oh. Well, uhh, thank you. It has been helpful.”

She turned to leave. “I could teach you, if you would like.”

She paused, frozen in spot by the offer. “I think I would like that.”

\--

It wasn’t going to be her best council meeting.  _ War Room meeting?  _ She never knew what to call them. Nonetheless, the war room was ready and she was making her way down the long hallway to attend. Making her way slowly, to be more specific. Somehow, after a long and restless night, she had lost her determination and was dreading seeing Cullen.

She slowly pushed open the large door. Josie, Leliana, Maxwell. No Cullen. She breathed a little sigh of relief. Not that she could avoid him forever, or would even try.

“Oh, Emma. I am pleased you are here. While we are waiting for Commander Cullen, let us discuss your children’s lessons. We have enlisted a small roster of individuals who are willing to teach them and a number of people who have volunteered to be guest tutors. I must say, the idea took the fancy of many. I believe they may miss the comfort of the mundane, such as spending time with children. Many of the parents have agreed to let their children attend, although they may pull them out at any time, of course.”

Emma beamed. One little thing she might have pulled off without negative consequences. 

“We will have to keep the project somewhat quiet outside of those with a vested interest in its success,” Josephine added.

“What? Why?”

“The nobility will not like the idea of common children receiving an education in any way comparable to the education of their own.” Leliana crossed her arms.  _ Isn’t it obvious,  _ her expression asked. Maxwell was shaking is head slowly in bemused disbelief.

“Well, it will not be precisely comparable, but certainly just teaching them to read and write will be disruptive enough.” Josephine smiled.

“What will be disruptive enough?” Emma spun around, her hair whirling around her shoulders with her. She hadn’t heard Cullen enter, despite his not being a particularly quiet figure.

“Emma.” Maxwell grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her hair aside. “Your neck.”

She reached a hand up to where he was looking and hissed at the contact. “It’s nothing. It must have happened while training.” Cullen was staring, eyes wide, at the smattering of bruising that must be colouring her skin.

Maxwell raised a solitary eyebrow. “Ah. Of course. I frequently come away from my sparring matches with bite marks on my neck.”

“Clearly you’ve not spent much time sparring with Iron Bull,” she retorted. She would continue to deflect. She wasn’t throwing Cullen under the bus because she hadn’t realized there was need for a scarf.

“Truly, Emma. Those look painful. Are you  _ quite _ alright? Your skin has been broken.” Leliana had approached, her lips pursed with concern and her expression full of implication.

“I am fine. Thank you for your concern. I would let you know if I needed help.” 

“Then I believe a juicier explanation is in order.” Maxwell waggled his eyebrows suggestively before wrinkling his nose. “It wasn’t Blackwall again, was it?”

Cullen grumbled something under his breath and charged out the door. “Wait! We need to discuss-” The door closed behind him. “By all means. Leave because of a little gossip. It’s not as though we have an assassination and Hawke’s contact in Crestwood to discuss or anything.” Leliana threw her hands in the air. 

“I don't think we can blame our Inquisitor for that one. We have frightened him off with this kind of talk before,” Josie giggled. “Besides, Cullen will have little to add to discussions on securing an invite to Halamshiral and I want to plan a small celebration to honour the Champion.”

The discussion moved on and Emma was just glad they didn’t guess the truth of things.

\--

“Dorian, I need you to do me a favour and I need you to be quiet about it.”

He pulled on his mustache as he considered. “And what, pray tell, do I get out of this favour?”

Emma rolled her eyes. She knew it was going to go this way, and yet asking him was less embarrassing than asking Vivienne or Solas and less likely to spread rumours than going to the healers. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and showed him her neck. “If you heal these for me, I’ll tell you who put them there in the first place.”

“Oh!” He leaned in to examine them closer. “Oh dear.” He glanced up at her before leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “But then, if I agree to your little deal I can’t share what I know with anyone and I think I might have a good idea whose marks these are anyways.”

She shrugged. “As you wish.”

“Wait, no. I am less certain than I would prefer to be. Bring your pretty neck over here. But be warned, I am not a healer. I’m nearly as likely to make them worse as I am better.”

“I trust you, Dorian.” She could feel that he was right, however. His healing felt rough, messy and weak. He assured her it more or less did the job, however, and her gentle probing confirmed that she at least no longer had teeth marks sunk into her skin.

“A deal is a deal, little bird. Tell me who has been devouring you so thoroughly.”

She snorted. “Guess.”

“Yesterday I would have guessed it was our dear Commander but a very disgruntled Varric was ranting about the Champion’s wilful flirting with you and, if rumour is to be believed, the man has a successful track record of quickly bedding women. The reaction from our grouchy warden also puts him on my radar, though at a distant third. Desiring you and having you are quite different things all together and I’m honestly not sure what your type is, my dear.”

“Well, I mean, Hawke is, just,  _ damn. _ ” She fanned her face with her hand, grinning. “But my tastes are honestly skewing closer to handsome ex-Templar at the moment.”

Dorian leaned forward. “I require the salacious and vulgar details. All of them.” Emma hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Hmm. That bad? A shame. Those Chantry boys can go either way, you simply never know.”

“It’s not that.” She pressed her lips together, considering what she could share without betraying Cullen’s confidence. “He was in a bad place and he left right afterwards. I’m not really sure where we stand now.”

“Oh, little bird. Any man who would leave you is an idiot.”

“Well, clearly,” she joked, but it was dry and without humour. “Honestly, I don’t know what to think. I need to talk to him but he looked quite appalled at his handiwork so I thought I’d fix ‘em up a bit first.”

“Appalled?” Dorian shook his head in mock disappointment. “Chantry boys. They don’t know when they should proud and when to be ashamed.”

\--

“Cullen?” Emma cracked open the door to his office, relieved to find him alone. He turned at her entrance and immediately reddened before lowering his eyes.

“I, umm… I bought you some…” He pushed a bag of dried herbs across his desk and towards her. “You can make a tea with that kind. I know you like tea. Maker…” He let out a low moan and buried his face in his hands.

“Cullen, I’m not sure-”

He abruptly stood, keeping his eyes lowered. “I was only getting some things in order for an easier transition. I will resign my position and turn myself over to the Inquisitor’s justice. You should not have to lay eyes on me again.”

Emma froze, blinking rapidly as she tried to digest what he had said. “Cullen, why would you resign? Turn yourself over for what?”

“You don’t need to do that- to pretend. I could hardly live with myself even if you were willing to pretend it never happened.”

“What are you even talking about? Are you talking about yesterday?”

She could see the muscles in his jaw flexing as he grit his teeth. “Yes.”

“You think you need to turn yourself in to Max because we had sex?” She said the words slowly, waiting for him to interrupt her and clarify that no, that was not at all what he meant.

He dropped back into his chair and gripped the edge of his desk. “Because I forced myself on you and abused you in the most horrible way, yes.”

Emma’s mouth dropped for half a moment before she recovered her senses enough to respond. “What do you remember about last night?”

He shut his eyes, clearly pained by his thoughts, but he indulged her nonetheless. “I remember fighting with you and feeling out of control. I remember the lyrium. I remember the song was so strong. And I remember… taking you.” The last words were filled with self-contempt and barely gritted out.

“Is that it? Cullen, it was a bit rough and sudden, sure, but do you not remember me kissing you back? Making noises of enjoyment? More importantly, do you not remember that you explicitly asked for my consent and I gave it to you willingly?” 

He shook his head in confusion. “I… it’s all a bit hazy. I- I mostly remember the lyrium in my head." He groaned with the recollection. "Maker, it was so loud and it made me feel completely out of control but then I kissed you and it quieted but… it’s still most of what I remember, just, using you to quiet the noise.”

“That doesn’t mean it was unwanted.” She nibbled her bottom lip nervously. “If anything, I should have seen what was going on for you and been more responsible.”

He frowned, doubting. “I had hoped during the night… I went to the Chantry and prayed that I had not done what I thought I did but then I saw the marks on your neck and…”

Emma walked over to his side of the desk and took his hand into her much smaller ones. He watched as she pulled on the fingers of his glove and pulled it off to press his bare hand to her face. “If you hurt me in such a way, do you think I would still allow you to touch me? Do you really believe I would come in here and tell you that you were blameless if it were not true?”

His entire body softened at her words. “No. No, I suppose not.” He quirked a hesitant half smile up at her before frowning again. 

“Do you really think you could do such a thing?”

“I did not want to think so, but I’ve… transgressed around you before.” His brows furrowed. “You turned me away. I had no reason to think that anything changed.”

Emma pulled his hand away from her face, holding it in her lap instead as she leaned against the desk. She watched her fingers twine with his as she spoke. “You stopped taking it,” she admitted.

“You didn’t want to be with me because of the lyrium?” She nodded. “But I’m so much more on it. I’m stronger. I sleep and I’m in a better mood. I can work harder. I can protect you when I’m on it.”

“How many times do I have to say that I don’t care about those things? I just… I can’t be with you and watch you slowly disappear into that fog. I can’t.” She could feel herself becoming emotional just talking about it and took in a deep, ragged breath to steady the remainder of her thoughts. “I don’t care if you’re grouchy, or weak, or have nightmares. If you aren’t taking it, I’m yours. If you want me, that is.”

Cullen took the hand that was wound through his and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the inside of her palm. “You are too good for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You should not be used in such a way. That is not how I would wish to treat you. I need to-”

The door to his office suddenly swung open. A messenger had reams of heavy papers in his arms. “Ser, I have a number of items from Sister Nightingale and Seeker Pentaghast that need your immediate attention. I also have a message from the Inquisitor.”

Cullen let out a long sigh and dropped Emma’s hand. “Thank you. Emma, can we talk later? I- I have a lot to think about.”

She tilted her head at the last statement. “Of course,” she said slowly, standing to exit the room. She turned at the door to take one look back, but Cullen was already pouring over the delivery with the messenger and was blind to her sudden need for reassurance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma was making her way through the courtyard, lost in thought, when an arm scooped her off the ground and threw her over a shoulder in one easy movement. “What in the complete and actual fuck are you doing?” She was not subtle about her displeasure.
> 
> “Tavern’s open,” Bull grunted. “It’s time to celebrate.”
> 
> Author's Notes: This is your last Wednesday reminder to check out the newest chapter of [Difficult Choices](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923598/chapters/35171483) and vote on what you want to see happen! Subscribe for e-mails when it updates so you don't miss your voting window!
> 
> Thank you as always for your comments and love! They mean so much <3 Did y'all notice that this fic is now over 100,000 words? How did I miss that last week? Must have been distracted be the sexy bits.
> 
> Also, come visit me on [Tumblr](https://kimpossibility.tumblr.com/) and say hello! I also made a [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/H2H4FNUI#) account, so if you want to extra make my day and contribute towards seeing art for my fics (this is straight up commission funding) - come visit there too! I'll fill a 500 word prompt for each coffee as a thank you.


	62. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'll be taking a couple weeks off from this fic due to vacation camping and such things. You'll probably see me back around late July. Difficult Choices will continue during this time as I'll mostly be around on Wednesdays.
> 
> Speaking of which, this is your last ever reminder that [Difficult Choices](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923598/chapters/35171483) is up and voting closes tomorrow, so go vote if you haven't and subscribe for ze email reminders!
> 
> \--
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Cullen took the hand that was wound through his and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the inside of her palm. “You are too good for me.”
> 
> “Don’t be ridiculous.”
> 
> “You should not be used in such a way. That is not how I would wish to treat you. I need to-”
> 
> The door to his office suddenly swung open. A messenger had reams of heavy papers in his arms. “Ser, I have a number of items from Sister Nightingale and Seeker Pentaghast that need your immediate attention. I also have a message from the Inquisitor.”
> 
> Cullen let out a long sigh and dropped Emma’s hand. “Thank you. Emma, can we talk later? I- I have a lot to think about.”
> 
> She tilted her head at the last statement. “Of course,” she said slowly, standing to exit the room. She turned at the door to take one look back, but Cullen was already pouring over the delivery with the messenger and was blind to her sudden need for reassurance.

Emma was making her way through the courtyard, lost in thought, when an arm scooped her off the ground and threw her over a shoulder in one easy movement. “What in the complete and actual fuck are you doing?” She was not subtle about her displeasure.

“Tavern’s open,” Bull grunted. “It’s time to celebrate.”

“You could have said.”

“Nah. You like being thrown around like the tiny thing you are.”

“I will not dignify that assertion with a response.” But she let him bring her all the way there tossed over his shoulder, because yeah, she did kind of like it when Bull did it.

It appeared not to be open to all of Skyhold yet but, rather, a small party was being held to celebrate it’s proper opening the next day. It seemed to be filled according to Maxwell and Iron Bull’s invite list, or at least those on it who had deigned to come.

Sera and Blackwall were deep in it, heads pressed together and gossiping. The Chargers were in a loud group taking up nearly a quarter of the available seating. Varric was hiding across the room from Cassandra, who didn’t seem to want to be there anyways. When Bull finally returned her to her feet, Emma made a beeline for Maxwell and Dorian who appeared to be pointedly mocking her already but had a half full pitcher at their table that looked quite appealing after the serious conversation she had recently abandoned.

“I see your love bites are all healed,” Maxwell smirked. Emma glared at him and began pouring herself a glass.

“Courtesy of yours truly, I’ll have you know.”

“Ah, you’re good for more than looking pretty, are you?” 

“I am wounded, Inquisitor. I am not  _ pretty _ . I am resplendent. Right, Emma?”

“Absolutely. Most handsome man in any room,” she agreed.

Maxwell raised his eyebrows at her. “Except me.”

“Right. Except Max.”

“Oh, and perhaps him. Maferath’s balls, that is an attractive man. Is that the Champion of Kirkwall you’ve all been going on about?” Sure enough, Hawke was walking through the tavern door. 

“I’m not sure you’re his type, Dorian.” The man in question went over to join Varric at the bar and Emma breathed a little sigh of relief that he wasn’t moving in their direction. She wasn’t certain she could handle his flirting right now.

“Ah, that’s right. He likes prophet, if Varric is to be believed.”

Emma snorted. “You say that like I’m a piece of meat.”

“I mean, of course not my darling Emma,” Maxwell chimed in. “But he did look at you like you were perched on a tray of delicacies for his choosing.”

“Lovely analogy. I see now why they made you Inquisitor.”

“I live to serve.” Maryden started a new song in that moment and Maxwell’s face lit up. “I love this piece. Come dance with me, Emma.”

“Oh no. I don’t know how to dance. Like, at all.”

“I’ll teach you.” Maxwell was already pulling her from her seat and she apparently had no say in the matter as he placed a hand on her waist and held the other. “Now this is a casual little dance from the Free Marches. It’s quite easy.” He began to talk her through the steps, slowly picking up speed until they were moving in time to the music. Emma stepped on his toes more times than she was comfortable with but he was laughing and having fun so she allowed him to continue moving her around the tavern, even as Sera heckled her from the sidelines.

When the song ended, she tried to return to her seat but a new set of hands quickly replaced Maxwell’s. “Watch how someone graceful teaches dancing, Inquisitor. You could use a few pointers.” Emma laughed at Dorian’s pointed bid to show off. “Now, hummingbird, I want you to forget all about footwork and instructions and just follow what my body is telling you to do.”

It definitely helped that she had a rough idea of the steps involved in the dance as it closely matched something she couldn’t remember the name of from home, but Dorian was an excellent leader and she found her body often responded accurately to his guidance. She noticed Maxwell observing them with a small smirk. A tap on her shoulder caused them to stop. “Mind if I cut in?” Hawke delivered a gracious bow and held out his hand for hers.

“Not at all,” she responded and delivered Dorian’s hand into his before prancing off the dance floor. Hawke, to his credit, barely paused before laughing and pulling Dorian into a dance position.

“I’ll be leading,” he declared.

“By all means. I wouldn’t dare try and tell the Champion of Kirkwall what to do.”

Emma laughed as the pair began to trade irreverent jests as though they were old friends rather than speaking their first words to each other. She took up a position next to Varric. 

“It must be nice having your friend back,” she said lightly.

“It is, even if he’s already stirring up trouble.”

“Has he? He looks as though he’s behaving to me.”

Varric took a sizeable swig of ale from his mug. “It also might have lost me another friend.”

Emma followed his gaze towards Cassandra, who was now watching the scene with curiosity rather than reticence. “She’ll come around, Varric. She likes more about you than you think.”

“Does she? Anything you’d care to impart?” He looked at her with blatant nosiness.

“Not my secrets to tell.” Across the room, Maxwell was now trying to convince Cassandra to join him for a dance. 

“I don’t dance,” she responded and crossed her arms.

“I can teach you. I showed Emma some steps easily enough.”

“I did not say that I cannot dance, Inquisitor. I said that I  _ do not _ .”

“Come on, Cassandra. Indulge a man in this simple pleasure.” Cassandra rolled her eyes with a drawn out noise of exasperation and disgust, but she allowed Maxwell to drag her away from her perch.

“One dance.”

Emma couldn’t help but turn her attention to Dorian, who was watching the Inquisitor closely. There was a love triangle burgeoning and she was relatively certain that Maxwell had no idea. “Excuse me,” she murmured to Varric. She returned to Dorian. “Dance with me again,” she demanded and tugged him out onto the floor. He smirked and swept her around in style but she could tell he was distracted. “You could ask him, you know.” She said the words quietly enough that no one outside their space would hear.

“I haven’t the slightest notion to what you are referring.”  _ Of course not.  _

At the next song transition, Emma was lifted by the waist and turned, and suddenly she was face to face with the Champion. He pulled her just a little closer to him than the others had, let his hand sit just a little lower than theirs had. “You seem to be avoiding me,” he said lightly as he led her to step backwards and turn.

“How delightfully self-centered of you. I am a very busy person.”

“Ah, yes. All this dancing and drinking certainly gives that impression.”

“Where is Bear?” She ignored his teasing jibe, determined to keep the conversation to places she felt safe.

“You’re asking about my mabari?”

“He’s the most interesting part of you.”

Hawke laughed, and twirled her before pulling her back in. “I snuck him out of the kennels,” he admitted. “He’s napping on my bed.”

“Josephine would be horrified. What if we cannot get the smell of dog out of the blankets? It would hardly do to host any of the nobility in such conditions.”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he smirked. “You learn quickly, you know. I once tried to teach a friend of mine how to dance and she spent an hour swearing at me before giving up and threatening to slice me from neck to cock if I tried to teach her again.”

“She must have truly hated it,” Emma laughed.

“Must have. Isabela was always rather partial to my cock. She’d only remove it in the most dire of circumstances.” He winked at her.

“Do you miss her?”

Hawke shrugged. “Sure. About as much as my other friends. Besides, it’s possible I see her for a quick tumble from time to time when we find ourselves in the same port.” He grinned roguishly, the moment of candor already passed. The song ended. “Care to try a different dance?”

“Thank you, but I think I’m done with dancing for tonight. I have a book and warm blankets calling for me.”

“Are you certain?” Hawke dropped his other hand to her hip and pulled her flush against him. In a deep voice he rumbled into her ear. “It’s a really fun one.”

“Are you sure you want to pressure me? Unlike your friend, I have no particular attachment to your cock.” She breathed a little sigh of relief when he chuckled and released her.

“I like you a great deal, prophet.”

“Good night, Hawke.” She waved lazily behind her as she left the tavern.

\--

Emma collapsed on top of her bed. Pretending that Hawke’s good looks and flirting didn’t affect her was  _ exhausting.  _ She certainly wasn’t about to fall into bed with him after what happened with Cullen. At the same time, she didn’t really want to declare herself taken and betray Cullen’s privacy any more than she already had with Dorian. Of course, she’d be lying to herself to pretend the flirting didn’t make her feel… good. Pretty. Flustered. 

She really should discourage it more actively.

A knock on her door made her start. Wasn’t it getting a bit late for visitors? She cracked it open to the sight of Josephine and a man she didn’t recognize. “Oh, good. I’m pleased you’re still awake. We’re running a bit short on time to get this finished.”

Emma blinked at her. “Get what finished?”

“Your dress. You can’t wear a tunic and leggings to dinner.”

“Josie, I’m so confused. I wear a tunic and leggings to dinner all the time. And I have a dress.”

She smiled affectionately. “Something a little more dressed up would be more appropriate. I’m speaking of the dinner for the Champion. As any nobles currently visiting Skyhold will, of course, be in attendance, you will need to look the part.”

“Alright,” she sighed, knowing well enough how much good arguing would do her. “Come in.”

It took much longer than she would have liked to have every inch of her measured while the dressmaker made tutting noises that made her feel self-conscious and inadequate. Was she not curvy enough? Not muscular enough? Not tall enough? Quite possibly all of the above. Josephine chattered on with the man about what she would like to see but Emma was only half listening. Something about navy and flared skirts, maybe. She couldn’t bring herself to care much. This dinner was hardly Halamshiral.

When they finally left, Emma curled up on her bed and dug into a book she’d stolen from the library on Antivan history. It was punctuated by enough assassins to make Varric’s books look like an implausible number of people lived. Another knock at the door made her groan. “Can it not wait until morning, Josie?” 

It was not Josephine at her door but a messenger with a small parchment for her. She thanked her and tore into the sealed note. It was smudged and filled with lines, and appeared to have been crumpled at one point, but she recognized Cullen’s handwriting instantly.

~~_To_~~         ~~ _Dear_~~

_ Emma, _

~~_I apologise for_~~ _I should be doing this in person but I don’t think I can. I think I’ve proven to both of us that I don’t make the best decisions when in your presence._

_ I care about you too much to encourage whatever misplaced feelings or hopes you might have for me.  _ ~~_ I cannot  _ ~~ _  I am a weak man but I will not use you as a replacement for the lyrium again. It is unfair to you and I need to beat this thing on my own and prove that I am  _ ~~_ worthy of y- _ ~~ _ worth something. _

_ I do not know if I can win this battle and I cannot ask for your heart when things are so uncertain.  _ ~~_ Perhaps one day I will be a man who can make you happy. _ ~~ _ You should not wait for me.  _

_ I would ask for some space. I cannot fight my cravings for both of you at once.  _ ~~_ I hope you understand. _ ~~ _  I hope I have not hurt you. _

_ Maker. This is a blotted up, scratched out mess of a letter but I don’t think I have it in me to start fresh. _

~~_Best wishes_~~        ~~ _With regret_~~

_ There are no words. _

_ Cullen _

Emma read it a half dozen times, looking for the part where it didn’t make her heart feel bruised and beaten. Part of her wanted to march straight to his office and tell him he was being an idiot. His self-flagellation was useless and getting in the way of him having what he wants. The other part of her understood the wisdom behind not getting in a relationship while in the early stages of recovery. There was a reason it was actively discouraged across different treatment approaches. 

She picked up a pillow and hurled it against the wall with an angry yell. Why was the timing never right for them? Why, as soon as she was ready for this, had he decided he didn’t want her anymore? Okay, perhaps that wasn’t fair.

She read it again and hurt for both of them. He was obviously conflicted. The kindest thing she could do was probably to hide her hurt and and let him know she was not. She thought over her response for ages before she let herself put pen to paper. There would be no crossing out of words on her end.

_ Cullen, _

_ I understand and will give you the time and space you ask for.  _

_ You are not weak. I respect you beyond measure. _

_ I am here if you change your mind. _

_ Emma _

She folded it up and placed it on her dresser to hand off in the morning.

She crawled into bed tried not to think about the reason she had a spot in her stomach that felt pained and empty all at once. After a time, she caved and allowed herself to cry until she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma was confused to find herself in a field of flowers. She only found herself in fields of flowers in the Fade when… “Solas?” She asked into the open air.
> 
> “It is time for your first lesson.” She spun around. He seemed to enjoy appearing from nowhere.
> 
> It took her a minute to recollect that he had said he would teach her how to overcome her nightmares. “I’m not sure it’s the best time, Solas.”
> 
> He tilted his head slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. “You are upset.”
> 
> \--
> 
> Author's Note *for those who are frustrated or upset about the end of this chapter and not for those who want to avoid spoilers*: Hey lovely readers! I promise I'm not just yanking you around on this for fun. I have a plan for getting them together and it requires them both being ready and intentional about a relationship. They just aren't there yet. Sorry for the let down after the sexy bits :( I feel like when they finally get there, it will be worth it!


	63. Pushing Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Woot! Two weeks felt like a long time not to post this - even with still posting Difficult Choices. 
> 
> A heads up that I won't be updating this fic 3x weekly anymore. It's not just because I'm also writing DC but the chapters in this fic have moved from being 1200-1500ish words to always over 2000 with many hovering close to 2500. CH64 is nearly 4500 words about A DINNER. That plus 3000 words in DC and some of the other things I'm working on makes it not sustainable.
> 
> I think I'll generally posting things 3x weekly but it will be spread out among different fics. We'll see how it goes. I'm so excited to be back with Emma today though <3
> 
> \--
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She thought over her response for ages before she let herself put pen to paper. There would be no crossing out of words on her end.
> 
> Cullen,  
> I understand and will give you the time and space you ask for.  
> You are not weak. I respect you beyond measure.  
> I am here if you change your mind.  
> Emma
> 
> She folded it up and placed it on her dresser to hand off in the morning.
> 
> She crawled into bed tried not to think about the reason she had a spot in her stomach that felt pained and empty all at once. After a time, she caved and allowed herself to cry until she fell asleep.

_ Emma was confused to find herself in a field of flowers. She only found herself in fields of flowers in the Fade when… “Solas?” She asked into the open air. _

_ “It is time for your first lesson.” She spun around. He seemed to enjoy appearing from nowhere. _

_ It took her a minute to recollect that he had said he would teach her how to overcome her nightmares. “I’m not sure it’s the best time, Solas.” _

_ He tilted his head slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. “You are upset.” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “Come,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her to a bench he’d suddenly manifested. “This will be a welcome distraction.” _

_ He sat her down on the bench gently, depositing her hand back in her lap before crouching to pluck a nearby flower. He handed her the small, red bloom and sat on the bench next to her. _

_ “What colour is the flower?” _

_ The edges of her eyes crinkled as she peered at him. “It’s red?” _

_ “It is blue.” _

_ She looked down at the little petals in her fingers. “No. It’s definitely red.” _

_ “This is the Fade, shira’lan. It only appears red to you because you believe that it is red. It can just as easily be blue.” _

_ Emma looked back at the flower. It still looked red to her. “So what do I do?” _

_ “Just believe that it is blue.” She had half a mind to tell him that he sounded like a crazy cult leader but instead she turned her attention to the flower and tried to believe it was blue. If one wasn’t willing to take Solas’s words about the Fade at face value, well, there was no helping you. _

_ She had no idea how long she sat staring at that little flower, Solas silently waiting beside her and no doubt occupied by his own thoughts. Exasperation began to take over and she brought her empty hand up to rub at a temple absentmindedly. “This isn’t working, Solas, and I’m sure you have much better things to do than wait while I pretend this flower is blue.” _

_ “You are not pretending. The flower  _ is  _ blue.” _

_ Emma rolled her eyes before returning her eyes to the flower. It was blue. She looked back up at Solas, puzzled. “You did that.” _

_ He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I did. I thought since you are so certain that the flower is red, you might find this easier.” _

_ She snorted, and started believing the flower was red. And it was. The flower was red. She looked at Solas, amazed. “That was me, right?” _

_ He smiled. “Good work. Now make it blue.” _

_ She glared and shoved him backwards off the bench - and froze. She had forgotten herself and began playing around - and she had pushed the Dread Wolf to the ground.  _ Idiot!  _ She stared at him, waiting for him to react, to claw out her throat or run her through with an icicle. He laughed, instead. It was light and musical and loud in the quiet of the field he had created.  _

_ “You still have to make it blue.” _

\--

Emma awakened pleasantly proud and satisfied, stretching lazily in the bed before rolling out and tapping barefoot across the room to get dressed. Her eyes fell on the note she’d left there, written last night and left for delivering in the morning. Her chest compressed with the recollection, but she felt vaguely grateful that she spent the night focused on another task rather than wallowing in her feelings.

She would simply have to do the same during the day.

At least it was the first day of ‘school’ for the Skyhold children and she had been invited to see what Josephine had arranged and offer advice. That would take some mental energy.

Mother Giselle was teaching them to read and write (using the Chant, of course, but at least they would be learning to read and write). The minute she showed up, however, she could tell something was wrong. Josie stood beside her, beaming, and Emma’s stomach sunk at the question she was about to ask.

“Where are all the elven children?”

The ambassador opened her mouth halfway, and closed it again before looking at the very human children gathered in a group around the revered mother. “An oversight that will be rectified.” The woman offered a tight smile and Emma didn’t ask if it was Josie’s oversight or someone she had delegated the task to. 

All in all, she was in a foul mood by lunch and she plunked down next to an equally stormy looking Maxwell with a full tankard. “Looks like we make quite a pair today,” he said upon spying her expression. “You want to go first or should I?”

“You.”

“They want me to judge Alexius. A man’s fate, completely in my hands. How is one man allowed to have that much power? Not to mention that he was Dorian’s mentor and he still cares for the man.” Emma leaned her head on his shoulder briefly in solidarity. “What does it mean if I sentence a man to death for trying to save his son? What does it say if I allow a man to live who tried to kill me, allowing the complete destabilization of time and the rule of a corrupted, wannabe god to do it?”

“You don’t have to make that decision alone, Max. You might have to sit on that chair and speak the words, but no one should have to carry that kind of burden. We would not ask it of you.”

“Perhaps you would not.” Maxwell looked at her for a beat before dropping his head. “No, they would not either. In my fear, I heard an imposition that was not stated. Maker, I am such an idiot. This Inquisitor thing is truly frying my brain. I’ve been arguing with Josephine since yesterday about this stupid dinner for the nobles to meet Hawke and I get that we need their support and money but Hawke’s friend is hiding in Crestwood and every day that passes, he could be found. There’s been no room in my mind for anything else.” He let his head collapse on the table.

“That’s why you have me,” Emma smiled brightly.

“You are completely dear to me. You know that, right?”

“I- Of course. Is everything okay?”

Maxwell shrugged. “More or less. It’s just, I might die any time I leave and I wanted to make sure that you know how important you are to me.”

Emma gathered up his face in her hands. “You are my soulmate and I love you to pieces and you will always come back to me, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned ruefully. “Your turn.”

“They forgot about the elves when they were inviting children to take lessons. It’s being taken care of now, so I suppose it’s okay. I’m just grumpy about it.”

“Sorry, Em. I was supposed to be on top of the elf stuff.”

“No. The lessons are my pet project. You worry about the adult elf stuff.”

He nodded, sipping a spoon of hot broth from his stew. “I’m pleased it’s not about all that nonsense with your neck,” he smirked. 

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment before Emma managed a shuddering exhale. “Oh, Emma. What did I do? I’m sorry.” He pulled her against his side, dropping kisses on top of her head to punctuate his apologies.

“No. No, it’s just... “ She hesitated, unsure of what was reasonable to share to the leader of the Inquisition about one of his advisors and immediate subordinates. Still, he was her friend and fuck if she wasn’t hurting and in need of one right now. “You can’t say anything.”

He looked at her like she was a little off her rocker. “Of course.”

“Including to the person in question. Promise me.” He nodded but she waited for him to say it out loud.

“I promise that this stays between you and me.”

She heaved a great sigh, trying to compose herself for the least emotional version of events. “Cullen and I had sex. He doesn’t want more. My feelings are bit wounded. The end.” The words spewed out as though the quicker they left her mouth, the less likely they were to hurt her.

That look was back. The one that said she was going a bit mad. “That makes no sense, Emma. Everyone knows he is thoroughly smitten with you. He’s wanted  _ more  _ since the day he brought you down the mountain, if Varric’s to be believed.”

“He has his reasons and I respect them,” she murmured. Still, she accepted his cuddles and reassurance gratefully.

\--

That night, she felt alone and crawled all the way under her covers. The heavy weight and warm air felt reassuring somehow. 

Faintly, she heard a voice humming a song from her childhood. It was something her mother used to sing to her when she was little and had a nightmare. At first, she thought it was only her imagination but eventually she began to realize that it was really sounding in the room. “Hi Cole,” she said from her safe spot under the blankets. 

“Do you want to come out? I can come in.”

“Yes. Come in please.” Cole crawled into her bed, joining her under the blankets and adding to her tiny safe zone. She was glad he took off the hat first.

“You hurt,” he said, staring at her with wide owl eyes and surrounded by white sheets. "Tightly squeezing. Make it small enough to ignore."

She tried to give him a gentle smile. “I hurt more last night. I’ll be okay.”

He nodded. “There was a lot of hurt last night. I’m sorry.”

The idea of Cole apologizing for not sneaking into her room to make her feel better fast enough actually tickled her a bit. “You don’t have to fix everything that happens here, you know? Sometimes you can trust people to heal their own hurts. I just need time.”

He pouted in confusion. “I want to help.”

“You are.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He was so bony, it freaked her out still. She felt he might break if she hugged or squeezed him too hard but she still wanted that kind of contact. “Cole, have you ever heard of something called  _ kunik _ ? Like, bunny kisses?”

“No.” But a look of recognition lit up his face as he plucked the act from her head. “Oh!” He leaned forward and brushed his nose across hers with a little exhale. Emma grinned from deep in her heart. “You like being touched.”

“I do. You can do that when you want me to feel better.”

Cole nodded and looked thoughtful. He leaned forward and did it again.

\--

Emma woke with energy and determination. Things were starting to happen and fuck if she wasn’t going to weigh in because she wasn’t supposed to know the future anymore. Maxwell and Hawke were going to Crestwood. Adamant was coming. Who knew when other events might occur?

She knew the future. She just needed to convince one scary god to continue to act as her friend rather than as her interrogator.

She hesitated outside the rotunda, heart pounding in her chest. It was a simple thing, really. She could do this. "I can do this."

She did not entirely believe herself when she formed those words.

Nonetheless, she breezed into the room, a sheepish grin on her face. Solas raised his head, a quizzical look as he saw her expression. She paraded directly up to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him emphatically on the cheek. “Thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

“I am not aware of what you are referring to,” he said, turning his mouth slightly towards her ear, standing with his hands behind his back and a slight smirk on his face.

Emma pulled back, aiming a confused look at him. “You brought them back. Or, brought me back? I don’t know how it works but I am seeing things again and you are my absolute hero.”

Solas pressed his lips together in a tight line. “I’m afraid I cannot take credit for your happiness, shira’lan. It was not my doing.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Really? But, it felt like you- like your magic, I mean. I felt you there. Or, at least, it felt like you connected me again somehow. Is it possible that you did it by accident? Or that you did it when you connected me to the Fade here but it only just manifested?”

“No. It is not.” He looked away from her, thoughtful. “Curious,” he murmured.

This was it: the key to her, admittedly half-baked, plan. “Well,” she shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe it was you in the future. Although I always assumed I’d be from far enough in the future that you wouldn’t be around anymore. How old are you anyways? It’s difficult to tell from your face.” She peered into his face as though assessing. “Well, I choose to believe you did something whether you know it or not.” 

She gave him another quick hug and danced out of the room before he could gather himself to respond.

_ Think on that, for a bit. Chew on it good and forget other lines of thinking. _

\--

“You’re going to want this,” she said as she plunked a large tankard down in front of him.

Blackwall looked at her and frowned. “Emma, what is this about?”

“Maxwell is leaving at the end of the week with Hawke to meet a contact of Hawke’s with the Grey Wardens.” 

“I- I had heard. I hoped since you hadn’t come to see me that it would not mean anything for me.” He looked at his drink. “I wager you’re right and I will be wanting this.”

Emma swallowed. “This journey isn’t the reason why you reveal yourself, but it might be a good time to do so.”

Blackwall hung his head. “I’m listening.”

“The reason that the wardens have disappeared, it’s because they’ve heard the Calling. All of them.” His eyes widened. “They’re trying to find a way to end blight forever because they think they’re all dying. Everyone except you, for obvious reasons.”

“Andraste’s grace. You can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“And you’ve known that this whole time? Since we met?” Emma nodded. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have been helping them!”

“When? When there was a giant hole in the sky and refugees from the Mage-Templar War needed our help? When demons were attacking every settlement on our doorstep? When we needed our army at Haven to defend against Corypheus? How about when we were limping through the mountains and trying to build a new home? Maybe I could have said something a week or two ago, but Hawke was already on his way to connect us with a warden who will tell us all these things.” Emma shrugged. “If you think I hadn’t considered it, then you clearly don’t know me very well at all.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Emma. I was unfair.” He reached across the table to take her hand, his eyes asking her to forgive him.

“I understand. It’s a lot to process at once and I know how you feel about the cause.”

He ran a hand through his beard. “I have a lot to consider.” His eyes darted to his ale and he downed the rest in one long drink.

Emma breathed a long sigh of relief. She was back, and she could help. And damned if she wasn’t going to do whatever she could to improve things. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She maneuvered nervously through Skyhold until Maxwell gathered her arm onto his and escorted her the rest of the way. “Haven’t done much of this, have you?”
> 
> “Any? At best I’ve played at dressing up with other people who were just as out of their element as me.”
> 
> “You’ll do fine. You look ravishing and that will earn you forgiveness for at least half the mistakes you’re going to make tonight.” She smacked him across the arm. “Now that, for example, is an unacceptable reaction to being teased. You must either turn it around on the other person or pretend it did not bother you.”
> 
> “I didn’t realize I had to play The Game with you,” she teased. His face turned serious.
> 
> “You will once we walk through that door. Maker’s balls, I hate this stuff.”
> 
> \--
> 
> Ah! Bold-faced lying to de facto Elvhen gods! Getting Blackwall to confess! But she's back - and manipulating the shit out of events again! What possible consequences will occur this time?


	64. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “You brought them back. Or, brought me back? I don’t know how it works but I am seeing things again and you are my absolute hero.”
> 
> Solas pressed his lips together in a tight line. “I’m afraid I cannot take credit for your happiness, shira’lan. It was not my doing.”
> 
> She cocked her head to the side. “Really? But, it felt like you- like your magic, I mean. I felt you there. Or, at least, it felt like you connected me again somehow. Is it possible that you did it by accident? Or that you did it when you connected me to the Fade here but it only just manifested?”
> 
> “No. It is not.” He looked away from her, thoughtful. “Curious,” he murmured.
> 
> \--
> 
> And now, over 4000 words about dinner that no one asked for!
> 
> \--

The week had been mostly spent on five separate things. The first was comforting Dorian while he went back and forth on what to tell Maxwell about his feelings on Alexius’ fate. This was her favourite part of the week, despite the fact that her friend was miserable. Comfort she could do. She was good at it and it came naturally to her. Dorian told her stories of their research and breakthroughs together, of Alexius as a father and as a mentor - and then of the horrible things that had nearly come to pass because of his actions. It turned out that Dorian craved physical contact almost as much as she did. He wanted to hold hands and cuddle as much as possible. She liked that part most.

The second part was helping Maxwell plan his trip to Crestwood. This part she was also good at, though she got little out of it besides Maxwell’s company. With her ‘sight’ back, she could tell him about the undead and draining the lake, about the Spirit of Command, about the fort taken over by bandits, and about the dragon. Unfortunately it meant long meetings avoiding Cullen’s gaze and pretending her heart didn’t flip over every time she was in his presence. He always looked at her with melancholy and she couldn’t bear it. Maxwell kept his word and never brought up what happened between them, but his shortness of temper with the man betrayed his knowledge and irritation just fine. When Hawke was present, it became more uncomfortable as his version of professionalism frequently ventured towards flirtatiousness with her. He also seemed to have no great love for the commander, though he was never overt about it.

Third, she let Josephine teach her dining etiquette and vent about her struggles in making this dinner come together with a reticent Champion and Inquisitor who couldn’t give two shits about currying favour with nobles. It’s possible she didn’t precisely phrase it that way. Emma listened and did her best to pretend she gave at least one shit. She was mediocre at best, but Josie seemed to appreciate the effort.

She monitored progress at the little school, reviewing lesson plans and smoothing things over with parents who complained about their human children learning next to knife-ears. Okay, smoothing over was not exactly what she did. The parents were brusquely given the options: educate their child next to elves, or pull their child from lessons and explain to them why they limited their future options.

Finally, she began training with Iron Bull. If Cullen needed space, that was fine, but she still needed to learn more about fighting. Problem is, Bull never went easy on her. He smashed her into the ground every day, leaving her sore and bruised and without time to recover. This was the part she was the worst at, but she made progress each time that left her walking away with a smile. Hawke frequently showed up here as well, making comments on her form with a wink and a lascivious smile and apparently competing with Bull to see who could be the most suggestive. She knew she shouldn’t encourage the rakishness, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her laugh and keep her mind from less pleasant thoughts.

The week went quickly, which might have been a blessing if Maxwell’s departure wasn’t going to mark the end of it. Everyone had been together in Skyhold for a month and it had been a complete joy to know everyone was safe and comfortable.

“Would you sit still?” A sharp voice brought her back to the moment.

“Sorry,” Emma responded sheepishly. She hadn’t realized that she’d been fidgeting. 

The woman Josie sent to do her hair clucked disapprovingly as she adjusted a bobby pin. Evidently leaving her hair down or in her customary braids was not an option at  _ the fancy dinner _ . She had also been subjected to a corset for underneath the dress she was doing her best not to fidget in. It hinted at fashionable while still being relatively simple and not indicating a thing about her, which was entirely the point apparently. It was navy, with long sleeves, and a shockingly low neckline that, combined with the corset, gave Emma cleavage she didn’t know she was capable of.

“Ouch!” Emma jerked as a pin was stabbed into her hair.

“Careful! You’ll ruin the whole thing and I’ll have to start over.” The stern face above her held no pity.

“You be careful,” she muttered quietly.

A few more moments and she was ‘finished’. She didn’t feel like she could move without undoing the whole thing, but hopefully that feeling would fade as the evening went on.

She manoeuvred nervously through Skyhold until Maxwell gathered her arm onto his and escorted her the rest of the way. “Haven’t done much of this, have you?”

“Any? At best I’ve played at dressing up with other people who were just as out of their element as me.”

“You’ll do fine. You look ravishing and that will earn you forgiveness for at least half the mistakes you’re going to make tonight.” She punched him lightly in the arm. “Now that, for example, is an unacceptable reaction to being teased. You must either turn it around on the other person or pretend it did not bother you,” he laughed.

“I didn’t realize I had to play The Game with you,” she teased. His face turned serious.

“You will once we walk through that door. Maker’s balls, I hate this stuff.” Maxwell paused with her before they entered.

“If you’re this nervous now, however will you survive Celene’s ball?”

He chuckled, pulling her a little closer to his side. “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

\--

Maxwell was quickly torn away from her, Josephine leading him to various interested nobles according to their station. She scanned the room for friendly faces, knowing there wouldn’t be as many present as she would like. Renegade Vints hardly made for a good showing, as with Qunari spies, Red Jennies and hobo apostates. Not even Grey Wardens made the cut, apparently. Leliana was already immersed in the Game and she didn’t want to distract the spy master from gathering her secrets. She spotted Hawke across the room, half a dozen nobles practically fawning over him while he clearly regaled them with some story of his adventures. He winked at her from his location but he hardly seemed to need rescuing so she let him be. Eventually she spotted Varric watching the goings on with a goblet in one hand and a tiny fork in the other.

“How did you manage to secure an invite?” She asked as she sidled up to him, retrieving her own goblet from a passing servant.  _ Elf, of course.  _

“Are you kidding? I’m a famous author, Visions. They won’t admit it in this company or risk having a conversation with me, but over half of them have read my books and are secretly having conniptions over my presence.”

Honestly, she had no idea if he was putting her on or not.

“Seems like you’re getting much the same treatment. You turned quite a few heads when you entered but no one’s been brave enough to approach the woman who might know all their darkest secrets.”

Emma laughed. “All this muscle and magic and somehow I’m the scariest thing in the room?”

“It’s not the only reason you’ve turned heads. Curly’s eyes practically popped out of his head at whatever’s going on there.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of her exposed cleavage.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk about low necklines.” She ignored the part about Cullen noticing. It made no difference.

“He looks like he wishes he were anywhere else,” he commented, not letting her escape whatever he was angling for.

Emma let her eyes wander towards him. He was standing stiffly in the corner, looking for all the world like he was trying to convince the room he was merely a guard and not anyone of consequence. She wished she could run over and tease a smile onto his face, make him forget the rest of the crowd. 

But.

“Don’t we all,” she sighed.

“Uh huh. Something is definitely going on with you two.” She stiffened, giving it away instantly. “That’s what I thought. You’re barely in the same room anymore and now you refuse to even talk about him. What’s up?”

Emma shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

He gave her a disappointed look. “Sure. Look, come chat with me when you’re willing to tell the truth.”

She watched, startled, as he walked away. Was he really that upset at not getting gossip?  _ No. He’s hurt that I won’t let him be a friend. Fuck.  _ She sighed and took a sip of wine. Tonight was going to suck.

“The Inquisitor is doing well, is he not?” 

Emma almost dropped her goblet. Leliana had snuck up so quietly. “Is he? He looks uncomfortable.”

“To us, yes, but look at those conversing with him. They cannot tell. He hides it well, only those who know him intimately would notice.”

She turned her eyes to those with him, where before she’d only bothered to pay attention to those in the room she actually cared about. Leliana was right. They were practically glowing under his attentions. She imagined Josephine was mentally tallying sums in her head as she listened.

“He has yet to judge the magister,” Leliana commented, apropos of nothing. Or perhaps not, knowing her.

“True.” She didn’t know what else to say, choosing instead to wait for the spymaster to make her point.

“The Inquisitor needs to be decisive. It does not look well that he leaves this task so long. He trusts you. It would be helpful if you could encourage him.”

“I think it speaks well that he considers his decisions carefully. If you do not trust him to make these decisions, then perhaps you should not have made him Inquisitor in the first place.”

Something flashed behind Leliana’s eyes and disappeared quickly. “You misunderstand me. I trust him to make a good decision. It is the outside perception that he is reticent to do so that concerns me.”

Emma sighed. “I’m sorry. I reacted poorly. Look. Maxwell has been making important, heavy decisions ever since the Breach. Alexius is in prison. He’s not going anywhere. Let him take his time with this one. After the decision is made and the next crisis occurs, nobody will remember that it took him a couple weeks longer than usual.”

“In the meantime, various factions dither about whether to offer their support or not.”

“Are things so dire that we cannot wait on them? We must be better off than before the Breach was closed?”

“We are,” she acknowledged. “But a fortress requires supplies, and Josephine is concerned about funding them. There are also grumblings about the presence of our men in certain places that would be silenced with a show of strength and leadership.”

“He leaves for Crestwood in the morning. Would you have him do it tonight in the middle of Josie’s party?”

“Of course not - but it should be his first concern upon his return.”

“I’ll mention it, Leliana, but I’m not going to push too hard. He needs support, not pressure.”

“It is appreciated, Emma.” The woman inclined her head and moved on to listen to whispers and spread her own. 

An Orlesian, evidently bolstered by drink, eventually swaggered up to her. “Ah, you are the prophet, yes?”

She smiled serenely and offered a slow curtsy. She’d been practicing with Josephine. “Oui. Je suis le prophète, monsieur. Comment peux-je vous aider ce soir?”

The man stared at her blankly for a moment before processing the change in language. He was clearly not expecting her to speak Orlesian, even if it was slightly formal and basic. Her using it first was a type of invitation, according to Josie. It said they might speak of things that others would not and implied a desire for a special relationship -- which did not mean what Emma thought when she first gaped at the women after the suggestion was made.

“Plutôt, c’est moi que peux t’aider, non?”

“Si vous le souhaitez.” She ignored the fact that he was speaking down to her. He was drunk and technically she had no titles.

“Mais, dites-moi, madame. As-tu entendu parler de moi?”

“J’sais pas qui vous êtes, monsieur. Si je vous ai vu dans mes rêves, ce n'était pas avec ce masque.” She leaned in for the last part and lowered her voice to something a little husky and suggestive causing him to chuckle. In the corner of her eye, she saw Maxwell exiting the room and Vivienne following him. Curious. “Je vous prie de m'excuser, monsieur.”

Emma made her way towards where they had left, tactlessly deciding she needed to know what was going on. They had ducked down a hallway and out of the way and she could hear them as she approached.

“I’m okay. Thank you, Vivienne. I just needed a moment.” Emma paused. Maybe she shouldn’t insert herself after all.

“Just remember, you are doing fine, my dear. Your natural good looks and charisma are enough to win over most of the crowd and your title convinces the rest. You don’t have to fight for this. Almost anything you do now will be received in a positive light. Remember names. Smile. That’s all you need, darling.”

It sounded like Vivienne was giving Max a pep talk? And doing a much better job than she would have. Emma turned to leave. She clearly wasn’t needed here. She turned and bumped straight into Hawke.

He reached out to steady her, hands on her arms. “Who are we eavesdropping on?” He smirked down at her.

“No one,” she hissed. “Come on.” She moved back towards the party and Hawke moved with her. She was very aware of his hand resting on her lower back as he stepped in time with her. “Shouldn’t you be entertaining nobles?”

“Shouldn’t you?” He shifted to stand in front of her, his hand still on her back and took the other into his. Before she knew what was happening, he was guiding her through a dance.

“I don’t know this one.” She felt herself starting to panic. “This isn’t even a dance, Hawke. We’re meant to schmooze then eat.”

“I wasn’t aware there were so many rules,” he teased.

“People are staring.”

“So?”

Thankfully, the song ended. They had returned to the room towards its end. Hawke bowed with great flourish, kissing her knuckles gallantly. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Prophet.”

She burst out laughing, it was so ridiculous. So much for maintaining an aloof and somewhat mysterious air. “That is not my name.”

“No? It suits. Besides, you never gave me your surname so I decided to-”

A bell sounded, announcing dinner. Hawke guided Emma towards the table, his hand remaining on the small of her back the entire time. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Maxwell would frequently do the same thing. Dorian too. This felt different. It felt different than his flirting too, which had grown so commonplace that she barely considered it anymore, lumping it in with Bull’s flirting as habitual and expressing an openness without any real expectation. The hand on her back felt like expectation, and she wasn’t sure why.

“Speaking of names,” he said as he pulled out her chair for her. “You should call me Garrett.”

He sat down next to her, because of course he had been sat next to her. The table was explicitly arranged according to some sort of decorum which had Maxwell at its head with the Champion to his left, followed by his prophet, the Right Hand of the Divine, and on. She looked across the table and found herself met by Cullen’s eyes, because of course his advisors were sat down the table to Maxwell’s right. She blushed and looked down.

“I thought everyone called you Hawke,” she said, returning her attention to the man on her right.

“Sure. That or Champion. I like to remember sometimes that there’s a man under all those stories though, you know?”

Emma looked at him in surprise. Something wistful had crossed his face, and then suddenly it was gone. “Besides, Hawke isn’t really chewy enough. It’s more a noise than a name. You’ll need something a bit more substantial to call out when I take you to bed.” His tone was purely conversational, his face straight except for a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Emma felt his words shoot straight to her core and she crossed her legs instinctively.

Still she managed to still her face into something impassive. “That’s rather presumptive of you,” she commented, reaching for her wine before leaning back to make room for a plate to placed in front of her.

“Maybe I have a bit of your special talent as well.”

She snorted. “Doubtful.”

“Have you tried these before?” Hawke reached to the centre of the table and pulled a sprig of berries out of one of the bowls they were clustered in along the length of the table. They were peach in colour and about the size of a cherry.

“I don’t think so…”

“They’re a Marcher delicacy. They are finicky to grow so they get expensive and are rarely exported. I’d never had one before moving to Kirkwall, and even then only once I was wealthy and famous. Josephine must have pulled a number of strings to get these.” He pulled one off the stem and held it, hovering a bit from her lips. “Try one.”

She raised her eyebrows at him skeptically. Did he really think she was going to let him hand feed her in front of a room full of people like this was an intimate seduction they were engaged in? She reached out and plucked another off the sprig he was holding, popping it into her mouth before he could react. She heard Maxwell snort and then quickly become very engaged in whatever Josie was saying. Her eyes widened as she bit down and the sweet juice flooded her tongue. It was bright and punchy.

Hawke grinned and tossed the one he was holding in the air, catching it in his mouth. “You’re not one to just let go and move with the flow of things, are you?”

She opened her mouth to argue. And shut it again. He was right. She fought against nearly everything that crossed her path. “I know the future,” she said. “I know what might happen if I simply went with the flow.”

He nodded gravely. “I understand. It must be quite the burden to bear, knowing that taking a fruit from my hand or dancing at a non-sanctioned time is going to end the world.”

“Shut up!” She slapped him across the shoulder playfully. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“You’re right. I think what you meant was-” He leaned towards her, brushing some of the strands of hair that had been left down over her shoulder and bearing the skin of her neck to him. His fingertips remained resting at the juncture where her shoulder met her neck and he moved close enough that his breath ghosted across her ear when he spoke. “- if you allowed yourself to let go, for just one moment, you’d be mine.”

Emma felt her face heating as her heart rate quickened. She was warm all over really. She stared down into her lap, hyper aware of who was sitting across from her and what it must look like. Christ on a biscuit, that was certainly what it felt like.

“Not at all. I don’t like arrogant men.” She managed the words but they faltered and didn’t even convince herself. She took a sip of soup. She was never going to finish eating at this rate.

Hawke sat back in his chair. “I’m pretty sure you find confidence quite attractive.”

“Those are not the same things,” she countered.

“And yet you  _ are  _ attracted to me,” he smirked.

Emma rolled her eyes. 

She didn’t deny it.

He was less forward during the next two courses, choosing to tell stories and jokes and generally make merry rather than continue focusing all his efforts on her. By the time dessert came, she had fully let down her guard and was very much enjoying being sandwiched between him and Cassandra. The Seeker seemed to find him completely insufferable and he enjoyed winding her up almost as much as Varric. Much like Varric, his humour was gentle and good natured. He never pushed at anything too hard and Josephine blushed prettily whenever his teasing was directed across the table. He and Maxwell both carried a similar kind of effortless charm and every conversation revolved around their presence. Emma giggled away the evening and tried not to notice how much wine she had been drinking. She knew where her hangover cure could usually be found, after all.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Cassandra was deep in conversation with Leliana. She looked behind her and no one was there. A tap touched the top of her head and she looked up. Nothing. Was it Cole, perhaps?

A glance at Hawke showed it most definitely was not. He was grinning playfully. He leaned forward, and murmured softly to her. “I thought you should know that if you’re worried about appearances, you don’t have to be.”

Just as her eyes began to crinkle in confusion, she felt fingers run up her arm but when she looked nothing was there. “How are you…”

“I’ve had a lot of years to refine the amount of force I use in a less combat oriented direction.” 

The fingers drifted, drawing across her clavicle and towards him. It felt so solid, like the hand of a lover brushing across her skin. She could see his gaze, intensely focused on where he was using his magic to touch her. She saw his eyes shift lower towards her breasts were half exposed and heaving with each breath. He licked his lips.  _ Damn this dress,  _ she thought. “Okay, I think you’ve shown off enough.” She laughed shakily and he shifted his eyes back up to hers.

“Are you certain?” A mischievous twinkle. “It doesn’t have to be about the places I can see.”

The fingers on her collarbone disappeared and were suddenly under her skirt and on her inner thigh, slowly drifting upwards. “I said that’s enough,” she hissed. The fingers halted their progression and his face changed to surprise and then uncertainty. They disappeared.

Emma looked at her dessert and found she had no desire to eat it. “Excuse me,” she muttered as she pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m afraid I am unwell. Good night.”

Not even the concern on Maxwell’s face could have induced her to stay another moment and she strode quickly from the room, ignoring the footsteps following her. She thought she would go to her own room and turned down the hall in that direction when a hand grabbed her wrist. “Emma, please wait.”

She stopped and glared at him. “Let go of me.”

He dropped her arm immediately. “Of course. Emma, if I’ve upset you…”

She shook her head, frustrated. “Is that how you usually seduce women,  _ Garrett _ ? You push them and make them uncomfortable until you get your way?”

He looked genuinely shocked. “I was just playing around.”

“You were completely inappropriate. You practically assaulted me.” He opened his mouth but she continued. “And don’t you tell me that you didn’t touch me because you know damned well what that spell feels like or your wouldn’t have used it.”

Hawke hung his head. “You are right. I am sorry, I got carried away. I’ve been drinking and- and that is no excuse. Please, forgive my transgression. It will not happen again.”

“It absolutely will not. But, yes, I forgive you.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, this time chaste and conciliatory. Footsteps sounded down the hall. When Cullen rounded the corner, she became very aware that Hawke was still holding onto her hand and quickly pulled it away. Cullen’s eyes took them in and he stilled.

“I wanted to check and make sure you were alright.” His eyes glanced meaningfully at Hawke before returning to her.

Hawke glowered and appeared a heartbeat from telling Cullen to go fuck himself, but kept his thoughts to himself. 

“Thank you, Cullen. I’m fine.” She smiled at him warmly. A stiff nod was all the response she received as he continued past her. She wanted to reach out and touch his wrist. She was certain a look and a touch would make things clear but she hesitated and he was gone.

“That man has a stick so far up his ass, it’s a wonder he can function.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Those things are not mutually exclusive,” he grinned.  _ Fair enough. _ “Permission to be impertinent?” Emma raised an eyebrow and he raised a conciliatory hand. “Only verbally.”

She assented.

“I like you a great deal, prophet. I would like to continue this thing we have.”

“You barely know me. What possible  _ thing  _ could we have?”

He snorted. “I’m the Champion of Kirkwall. I haven’t had to work this hard to seduce someone in years. I- I admit I took it too far but I enjoy chasing you, Emma. Every time I get you to loosen up a bit feels like a victory and, quite frankly, your dismissiveness of me makes me feel like a man and not just a title. So, yes, I think we have a thing.”

“Hawke…” She sighed. She didn’t know what to do with a straightforward Hawke that wasn’t teasing her.

“Garrett. Please.”

“Garrett. I’m not sure there’s anything for you to find at the end of that chase. I’m just not very emotionally available right now. I’m not playing games when I reject your advances. I’m actually not in a place where I want to sleep with anyone, nevermind pursue a  _ thing _ .”

“That might change.”

“It might.”

“Then, unless you tell me to fuck right off and it’s never going to happen, I think I’ll continue on. I will, however, try to be more respectful.”

“I can’t promise you anything.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. Besides, that would be terribly boring,” he winked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Of course, even waking with the sun, Maxwell and crew were already preparing to leave. Dennet was saddling the horses. People were double checking their packs. She was surprised to see Blackwall with them. She’d thought he was staying behind as Cassandra was already going and they had plenty of manpower with Hawke going along.
> 
> “What’s with the shake up?” She asked as she tucked herself under Maxwell’s arm.
> 
> “He asked to come. He, uhh, maybe you should talk to him yourself.”
> 
> “Maxwell, what’s going on?”
> 
> \--
> 
> Ahh! Hawke - what you doing? Emma - what you doing? Just what is everyone doing?!?!


	65. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Blackwall looked at her and frowned. “Emma, what is this about?”
> 
> “Maxwell is leaving at the end of the week with Hawke to meet a contact of Hawke’s with the Grey Wardens.” 
> 
> “I- I had heard. I hoped since you hadn’t come to see me that it would not mean anything for me.” He looked at his drink. “I wager you’re right and I will be wanting this.”
> 
> Emma swallowed. “This journey isn’t the reason why you reveal yourself, but it might be a good time to do so.”
> 
> Blackwall hung his head. “I’m listening.”
> 
> \--
> 
> “Garrett. I’m not sure there’s anything for you to find at the end of that chase. I’m just not very emotionally available right now. I’m not playing games when I reject your advances. I’m actually not in a place where I want to sleep with anyone, nevermind pursue a thing.”
> 
> “That might change.”
> 
> “It might.”
> 
> “Then, unless you tell me to fuck right off and it’s never going to happen, I think I’ll continue on. I will, however, try to be more respectful.”
> 
> “I can’t promise you anything.”
> 
> “I wouldn’t want you to. Besides, that would be terribly boring,” he winked.

_ “Another lesson?” She asked the minute she saw the now familiar field. She didn’t even look for him. _

_ “I believe it is time.” His voice was right next to her ear. _

_ Emma sighed. “You always pick the worst times.” _

_ He circled around to examine her face. “You are upset again?” _

_ “More like confused and annoyed.” _

_ He tilted his head. “You are important to me, ma’falon. If you would prefer to talk about things rather than practice, this is possible. I may be able to advise?” _

_ Emma laughed. She laughed hard, dropping to her knees and squeezing her eyes shut. “I am so sorry, Solas. Only, I’m not talking to you about boy troubles.” _

_ He watched her, his expression unreadable. “Do you believe I am so unfamiliar with the ways of love that I would have nothing to offer?” _

_ “No. Only, we don’t talk about personal things. We philosophize. You teach me things. That’s not our relationship.” _

_ He made a noise of acknowledgement. “Come, let us attend to our lesson then.” _

_ She stared at him. “Are you… upset?” _

_ “Not at all, shira’lan. Come. We will practice.” _

_ But there was something behind his eyes that spoke of a lie and it sat there for the remainder of their time together. _

\--

Emma woke with the sun. She frequently left her window open so the brightness of dawn would slowly rouse her. When she did not do so, she often slept late enough into the day for it to become embarrassing. 

She pulled on a tunic and leggings, glaring disdainfully at the dress from the previous evening which she had abandoned in a puddle in the corner of the room, corset dropped just as carelessly atop it. She wrapped herself in a blanket to keep out the morning mountain chill. She had her cloak, of course, but she wasn’t quite awake enough for proper outer layers yet. She barely convinced herself to brush her teeth and splash some water on her face, content to unbraid her hair as she descended to the courtyard and leave it in loose, messy waves for now.

Of course, even waking with the sun, Maxwell and crew were already preparing to leave. Dennet was saddling the horses. People were double checking their packs. She was surprised to see Blackwall with them. She’d thought he was staying behind as Cassandra was already going and they had plenty of manpower with Hawke going along.

“What’s with the shake up?” She asked as she tucked herself under Maxwell’s arm.

“He asked to come. He, uhh, maybe you should talk to him yourself.”

“Maxwell, what’s going on?”

“He’s been hearing the Calling, Em. For a little while now. At first he wasn’t certain, but it’s been growing louder and it’s unmistakable now, apparently.”

Emma pressed her lips together in a tight line, not trusting herself to speak for a few moments. “I think I will speak with him,” she finally managed.

Blackwall did not protest or try to avoid her as she approached. He hung his head and walked with her in the direction she indicated. She could see the tendons in his neck shift and strain as he tested out different things to say in his mouth. 

“How dare you,” she gritted out. “I did not tell you those things so you could use them to bolster your lie, Thom.” She spat his name with a fury that she clung to so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by her hurt and disappointment. Her hand was twitching with a desire to punch him, slap him. Anything to make him feel her anger.

He noticed. “Go ahead. I deserve it, my lady.”

“No. You don’t deserve the relief of receiving pain for your actions. Pain is like a punishment that soothes and excuses you. I refuse to give you that.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded once his understanding. “It was a moment of weakness. I did not intend…” His limp excuse died on his lips.

“Tell Maxwell the truth or-”

“Or you will tell him.”

“No. You need to decide what kind of man you want to be, Thom. Threatening to make things worse will not help you with that. Tell Maxwell the truth or live with the knowledge that you haven’t changed as much as you thought.”

Emma turned. She was done with him.

“What about us?”

She looked back at him, eyebrow raised incredulously. “What about us?”

“Can we… Will I ever earn back your friendship?”

She shook her head sadly. “I don’t know. Some things even I can’t see.”

\--

She squeezed Maxwell extra tight before he left. She needed it. “Come back really soon, okay?”

“Like I could stay away from you,” he mumbled into her forehead as he kissed it repeatedly. And then, sensing something was off, he kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, both her cheeks, each side of her mouth. “I will miss you too, silly girl.”

She gave Cassandra a hug. “I will bring him back safely,” she promised.

“Of course. Bring yourself back too, okay?”

She wasn’t sure what to say to Vivienne. She wanted to thank her, but decidedly did not want to out herself as having eavesdropped on their conversation so she merely smiled at her and wished her a safe journey. 

Sera wasn’t one for big goodbyes, and they still weren’t very close, but she leaned in and whispered for Emma to tell her how Fancy Mage-Britches liked his presents. She assumed that must mean Dorian.

If she ignored Blackwall, she could hardly be blamed.

A tug on her hand pulled her attention away from Sera. “I’m leaving too, you know.” A shadow of uncertainty. “Or are you ignoring me because you’re still angry? If that’s the case, I apologize. I will leave you alone.”

“After you apologized so prettily? How could I possibly stay angry?” In all honesty, her anger at Blackwall left little room for the previous night’s upsets. A wriggling Bear mashed his face into her legs. She had to swing a foot out and plant it to stay upright. “Yes, yes.” She gave him a good scritch and leaned over to plant a fond kiss on the mabari’s head. He was a persistent and annoying mongrel but damn if he didn’t make her smile. Same went for his human, honestly. 

“Hey. You. This is my moment. Get out of here.” Hawke was smiling but he gestured and the dog willingly trotted off. He reached out and took her hand in his. “So where’s my goodbye?”

“Farewell, Hawke” she grinned. “Have a safe journey.”

“Is that it? I may die during our travels. You ought to give me a proper goodbye.”

Emma smirked at him. “You forget I see the future. I happen to be quite certain of your survival.”

“So only men on death’s door deserve your affections? I am suddenly quite concerned for the Inquisitor.” He smirked back, his quips too roguish for a mage. It was hardly fighting fair in her battle to not be charmed.

“What in your estimation is a proper goodbye, then? You aren’t Maxwell and I won’t treat you the same.”

“Trust me, Lady Prophet, I am not asking for familial affection. One kiss. For me to carry on this dangerous and important mission.”

“A single kiss?”

“Just one.”

“It means nothing.” Why wasn’t she saying no? She should definitely say no.

“It means something to me, but I get your meaning. I will take no promises from it.”

_ Say no _ . “Okay, Hawke. One kiss goodbye.”

“I asked you to call me Garrett,” he murmured as he wrapped a hand around her waist.

“Gar-” He captured her lips swiftly, pulling her close against him with the hand on her back. The other remained holding her hand. His lips moved against her with measured urgency and when she gasped, he did not take advantage of her parted lips to press forward with his tongue but he groaned quietly and kissed her harder. He bent over her, reclining her dramatically and bringing his other hand to support her weight before pulling her back upright, his mouth still locked on hers. She tapped his shoulder weakly with her open palm and he released her to stumble backwards and pant as she sucked in air rapidly.

“Farewell, my lady,” he said, bowing low and grinning mischievously before swinging onto his horse and trotting away. She watched his retreat, wide-eyed before turning to the rest of the group who were mounting their own rides and starting after him. Maxwell let out a long whistle and Sera made a vulgar gesture and they were gone. 

Emma turned to go back inside, unsure what else to do. Varric stood in the doorway, shaking his head. Of course he had come to see Hawke off. “Don’t start.”

“I did warn you.”

She sighed. “Fuck. I know… Would it really be such a bad idea?”

“Yes.”

They walked together towards the Herald’s Rest. She didn’t know when she had changed directions, but that was certainly where they were going now.

“Look, Visions. Hawke is a good guy. At least he tries to be. He’s family - but he’ll break your heart eventually without even meaning to.”

“My heart? Varric, I’m not in love with him.”

“Yeah. You are. You love everybody. Tell me you wouldn’t put your life on the line for Dorian, for Josephine, for me.”

“Well, of course I would. You’re all-”

“Now tell me you wouldn’t do it for Hawke.” She hesitated. “You’re a lover, Visions. You can’t help it. This thing with Hawke, it can only end a few ways and none of them involve a happily ever after.”

“Maybe it’s not about that. Maybe it’s just about grabbing a little happiness where I can.”

“Then go see Curly. At least he’s less likely to break your heart.” She couldn’t help the look she gave him, probably somewhere settled between despondent and skeptical.

_ He already has. _

\--

Leaving Varric in the main hall to do some work after breakfast, she aimed herself towards the library. She thought the Tevinter mage might be just the thing to distract her. A safe diversion, at least - and not likely to judge her though she may be subjected to merciless teasing. Teasing about Hawke was at least a distraction from her persistent ruminations on Blackwall.

_ That jerk. _

She stopped short as she entered the rotunda, the breath pushed from her lungs by pure astonishment. Solas had finally completed the first panel of his frescoes. Finally being a relative term referring to how long she had been waiting for it, of course. It had popped up practically overnight.

The explosion and the Breach covered a large section of the wall and she could see where the formation of the Inquisition was set to abutt it. Great splashes of peach and gold dominated the room.

“Solas,” she breathed as she approached the wall to examine it more closely. “It’s… I have no words.”

“I’m pleased that you like it, shira’lan.” He came to stand behind her and examine the piece himself.

“May I?” Her hand was hovering mere inches away from the wall. She swore it moved of its own accord. 

“Of course. It is perfectly dry.”

Emma allowed her hand to close the remaining distance, tracing a line of colour where it descended, as straight as though it had been measured. “It’s so smooth. I had thought the plaster would be more uneven.”

“It is a matter of technique and skill.” She could hear the pride in his voice.

“I didn’t realize the life of a wandering apostate gave much opportunity for practicing painting.”

“Most of my lessons took place-”

“In the Fade. Of course.”

“I am becoming predictable.” He stepped away from her as he spoke, returning to the work on his desk.

She laughed briefly. “Oh, Solas. I’m sure you have plenty of surprises for us yet.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do I indeed? What have you seen, ma’falon, that makes you say so?”

“Of you? Almost nothing. It’s quite strange. Perhaps you have the spirits keeping secrets for you.” She put on her best teasing voice, hardly requiring a beat to collect her thoughts enough to deflect. And yet, his continued appraisement of her made her nervous. “If you’ll excuse me, Solas. I require the company of my other favourite mage. Or, I suppose, my other, other favourite mage as Vivienne is quite in my good books at the moment. Farewell!” She scarcely knew what she was saying as she raced up the stairs. 

And yet, Dorian was not in his customary haunt.

Emma furrowed her brow and curled in his chair, plucking a book from one of the stacks next to it. It was complete nonsense to her. The next as well. She pursed her lips, trying to puzzle meaning from the theoretical proposals and equations to no avail. “Does this ridiculousness actually make sense to you,” she asked when he finally showed up.

“Of course,” he laughed. His face grew serious. “This ridiculousness is quite my forte. That is why Alexius brought me into his tutelage.”

She offered a grim smile. “His fate is weighing on you.” A fact. Not a question.

“I went to see him this morning. He asked for nothing but news of Felix.”

She waited. Dorian was pacing, agitated.

“His last letter was not encouraging. He grows worse each week and predicts he many not last the month.”

“Oh Dorian.” She reached out, pulling him to her. She felt his nose press into her hair, inhaling deeply.

“How is it that you’re my best smelling friend?”

“I am very fastidious about cleanliness.” She grinned into his shoulder at his sudden change in topic and tone. She had learned by now that forcing him to be serious at length rarely turned out well.

“I believe you’re using some secret soaps that you haven’t told me about.” And he proceeded to attempt to ferret it out from her.

\--

_ Emma was in a forest. Great, gnarled trees surrounded her and she could hear the distant bubbling of a stream. She looked around. It was solid and stable, as when Solas crafted the Fade for them, but it was not their customary field and he was nowhere to be seen. _

_ A thud behind her shook the ground beneath her feet.  _

_ Emma froze. Every sense strained to ascertain what was behind her without her moving. A puff of warm air ruffled the hair laying across her shoulders. She could hear breathing. _

_ “Run, little halla,” a voice rumbled. _

_ She did. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “You need to talk to Curly.”
> 
> “I can’t, Varric. We’re… giving each other space.”
> 
> “Look, Visions, I don’t know what’s going on with you two but you need to talk to him because he’s been storming around for weeks now, chewing out anyone who dares to approach him.”
> 
> “I think it’d be better if you just talked to him.”
> 
> “I tried,” he quipped. “Mine is one of the heads that has been thoroughly chewed off.”
> 
> \--
> 
> Oh my. Over 400 kudos? What happening? Thank you all so much for your support so far on this unwieldy and never ending monster I've created. Your comments and feedback bring me so much joy. <3 you all so much!


	66. Terrible Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma was in a forest. Great, gnarled trees surrounded her and she could hear the distant bubbling of a stream. She looked around. It was solid and stable, as when Solas crafted the Fade for them, but it was not their customary field and he was nowhere to be seen.
> 
> A thud behind her shook the ground beneath her feet. 
> 
> Emma froze. Every sense strained to ascertain what was behind her without her moving. A puff of warm air ruffled the hair laying across her shoulders. She could hear breathing.
> 
> “Run, little halla,” a voice rumbled.
> 
> She did.  
> \--

Emma woke with a strangled scream. 

“Vishante kaffas! Keep your voice down. You’ll wake the whole keep.”

She threw her arms around Dorian, letting her pounding chest beat against his. Tears were running down her cheeks and had apparently begun doing so before she even woke. “I’m so glad you’re here, but why?”

“Because I’m the part of the keep that sleeps next door to you and you suddenly began screaming in your sleep a few moments ago.”

She nodded into his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Bad dream?”

A shadow appeared in the open doorway, causing her to tense and pull away.

“Is everything okay, ma’falon?”

“Yes. Thank you, Solas. Just a bad dream.” Her voice trembled with the words and she watched his face as she spoke, her hand remaining on Dorian’s arm to ground herself.

_ Was it you? _

His face remained neutral, with just a hint of concern. “The nothing again?”

“No.”

Something flickered over his face but she couldn’t read it in the shadows. “We could have more frequent lessons. Give you more control over the Fade.”

How she wished she could read him better. The dream had felt just like when they were together for lessons, but here he was offering to help. “Yes,” she hedged. “Soon enough I’ll be able to change the colour of the things that scare me instead of just flowers.” 

“Everyone has to start somewhere, shira’lan.” He moved to leave but she called him back.

“Solas, you don’t sleep in this part of the keep. What are you doing here?”

“I was ruminating on something and found myself wandering. I stopped when I saw your door was open.”

A nice story.

\--

“Good hit!” Bull roared as she ducked under his arm and leveled a dagger at his throat. She panted heavily, chest nearly exploding with the effort of it.

“Thanks,” she eventually gasped.

“You really shouldn’t expend all your energy on one opponent though.”

“I mean that’s reasonable but-” Suddenly her feet were kicked out from under her and Krem stood over her prone body with a sword aimed at her chest. 

“Oh, come on! I can barely even hit Bull and now you’re throwing this bullshit at me.”

Krem grinned. “You didn’t think the Chief would let you get to a place where you actually feel confident, did you?”

Emma snorted. “That would be asking too much.”

“Come at me,” Bull commanded.

“You can’t even wait for me to get up?” She asked as she grasped Krem’s outstretched hand.

“You don’t get down time on the battlefield, Kitten.” 

Bull and Krem circled her slowly as she eyed them warily, still breathing heavy from her previous exertion. There was barely a blur before she was on the ground again. “Screw you guys,” she huffed.

“Finally. I’ve only been asking since the day we’ve met.”

“Weak, Bull. That’s not even the first time you’ve made that joke.”

“It’s not? All this staying in one place is getting stale. How are you doing on that front. Getting itchy again?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But I have a feeling I’ll be leaving sooner than I’d like, when all is said and done.”

“A feeling or a vision?” Krem’s tone was gently accusatory.

“Both.”

Bull grunted, hauling her up by the shoulders. “I think we’re done for today.”

“Great.” Emma rolled out her pained and sore shoulders. She could feel the bruises that would form up her spine by tomorrow. She looked up and spotted Solas, watching her from the balcony off the rotunda. She shivered. She’d managed to avoid him for the past few days but the exhaustion of not getting a proper night’s sleep was catching up with her. She was certain she wouldn’t be able to manage much longer.

She hadn’t originally intended to keep herself out of the Fade, but her nerves kept jolting her awake every hour and she never fully sunk into a REM cycle. Avoiding him during the day was very much done on purpose. “I’ll see you later, Bull. Krem.” She grabbed her waterskin and the layers she’d shed from the ground and headed for a bath. She aimed one more furtive glance at the balcony.

It was empty.

\--

“You need to talk to Curly.”

“I can’t, Varric. We’re… giving each other space.”

“Look, Visions, I don’t know what’s going on with you two but you need to talk to him because he’s been storming around for weeks now, chewing out anyone who dares to approach him.”

“I think it’d be better if you just talked to him.”

“I tried,” he quipped. “Mine is one of the heads that has been thoroughly chewed off.”

“What do you want me to do? He doesn’t want me around right now.”

His look was withering, as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not about what he wants. It’s about what he needs.”

Emma turned her head towards his tower. The window towards the courtyard was open. It was always open. She could see him moving around in there. “I’ll try,” she sighed.

The climb to his office was too short. She didn’t even know what she was going to say.

The door was open.

She cursed. She didn’t even have a solid barrier to hide behind and collect herself first. Her nerves were on fire and her stomach was tighter than a drum. She peered inside to see him crouched down in front of his bookshelf, shifting through titles in search of something. She knocked on the door frame.

“What do you want?” He remained focused on his task, only turning his head to investigate when the silence had dragged on awkwardly long. “Emma!” He jolted upright, holding a book awkwardly in each hand. “Uhh. What are you doing here?” 

“Varric,” she shrugged.

He grunted. “Of course. That meddling- It doesn’t matter. I am fine.”

“Really? Because Varric said you’ve been snapping at anyone who dares come near you - and you knew why he sent me here without asking.”

“I’m fine.” But his eyes darted to the side and his voice lacked conviction.

“Is it the withdrawal?”

“It’s a few things.”

She gestured towards his forehead with her hands. “May I?”

He put the books down and walked towards her. “I can rub my own temples,” he muttered petulantly.

“Of course you can. It’s not the same though is it?” She tried to suppress a smile but the teasing showed plainly on her face as she reached up to place her fingers on either side of his head.

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” she smiled. “Maybe I’m better at it than you. Or maybe it’s just nicer to have someone take care of you.”

He hummed his acknowledgement and closed his eyes. She kept massaging his temples for a bit before moving lower to his neck and shoulders. His head drooped forward and he let out a soft puff of breath.

“Did you sleep with him?” He asked eventually, his voice husky and cracking. Emma slowly pulled her hands away. He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I have no right to ask. And yet, I- I need to know.”

She considered refusing to answer. He was right. He shouldn’t have asked, but his eyes were so despondent and ashamed that she couldn’t find it in her to be angry. “No.”

He nodded, squeezing his eyes closed briefly. “But you like him enough to know who I’m talking about.” 

Emma looked down briefly, then returned her hands to his temples. “It doesn’t matter who you’re talking about. I haven’t had sex with anyone since you… and I’m not planning to any time soon.”

They remained in silence for a while longer. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, taking her hands from his face and holding them in his own. “I think that fact has caused almost as much of my grumpiness as the withdrawal.”

“What can I do? What do you need?” He stayed silent and she gently pulled her hands out of his. “I don’t know what you want from me, Cullen.”

He sighed, walking to his desk and leaning forward, his hands planted on the edge. “I don’t know. I thought it would be easier to be away from you but it’s not.” He let out a long, shuddering breath. “There are days my hands shake so badly and I can’t think because the song is so loud, but I picture your face and I feel stronger. I feel like I might make it this time.”

“I’ve never doubted you could.”

“I spend almost as much time thinking about lyrium as I do about my work. I’m an addict. I can’t say I have the same faith in myself that you do. You said yourself that your visions are only possible futures- I could just as easily wind up dead or mad from this.” He shook his head. “I have nothing to offer you but I… I truly do miss you. Your friendship, I mean. Of course.” His hand moved up towards his neck, hovered and dropped back down to the desk.

“I miss you too, but Cullen, you’ve always had my friendship. Was that really in doubt?”

His eyes darted towards her briefly. “I don’t know. My thoughts have been… dark lately.”

She almost asked if he’d talked to anyone about them, but of course she already knew the answer. “If you ever want to talk, you know I’m here right?”

He nodded, still staring steadfastly at his desk.

She turned to leave. She’d done what she came for after all. “Don’t go,” he pleaded to her turned back and he hesitated, her hand resting on the door frame. “Please.” His hand wrapped around her arm, gently pulling her back. She let him and settled into his embrace, cold and barriered by his armour as it was. They stayed there for a time, his cheek resting atop her head, saying nothing. She listened to his soft breathing, feeling more calm and relaxed as the time stretched on. After a while, Emma felt as though the distance between them had never even occurred.

\--

Attempt at doodling hug:

\--

_ Emma’s heartbeat raced as she took in her surroundings. The dark and twisted trees casting shadows across her face were startlingly familiar. She waited, silently, and there was nothing but the feeling of being watched and the sound of a near stream. Her eyes darted about, seeking any hint of movement and she turned in slow, wary circles. _

_ Still, nothing. But the scene was unmistakable. There was no chance she had forgotten the place of her terror so quickly. _

_ Finally, warm breath on her skin proved her right. “You are still here,” the voice said. Every hair on her skin stood straight up. _

_ She steeled herself to respond, fighting the urge to tear off across the forest. “I wasn’t aware that I had a choice.”  _

_ “You could have run.” _

_ “I might have run straight to you.” _

_ “Yes,” he growled into her ear. “What a delight that would have been.” _

_ She attended every ounce of her attention to her toes, turning them in inches until they had rotated far enough for her body and head to follow and stare her assailant in the eye. _

_ A great beast stood before her, shaggy and dark with six red eyes. It exhaled through its nose and she closed her eyes against the rough air. “Will you not run?” It asked. _

_ “Will you not simply catch me?” _

_ In answer, the huge wolf raised its snout to the air and howled to the sky. Emma bolted. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She looked at the party for an extra beat as she realized something seemed off. There was one fewer among their number than when they had left. She looked up at Maxwell’s face, the guilt written across it causing her heart to beat a little faster. “Max, where is he?”  
> \--
> 
> What's this? ANOTHER cliffhanger? Oops!


	67. Repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Sorry for the delays in posting. Honestly, it is just the heat draining all of my brain power. Writing and editing feels impossible. Even playing video games has seemed like too much effort sometimes. I've been bingewatching a lot of tv. Also, brain power failure means I am not into huge parts of this chapter but can't figure out how to fix it so you're getting it as it is! 
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> A great beast stood before her, shaggy and dark with six red eyes. It exhaled through its nose and she closed her eyes against the rough air. “Will you not run?” It asked.
> 
> “Will you not simply catch me?”
> 
> In answer, the huge wolf raised its snout to the air and howled to the sky. Emma bolted.

 

 

_ Emma could hear the heavy footfalls running alongside her. They echoed through the trees but she could tell the were changing sides. His speed far outmatched hers and she was struggling now to draw breath. He was toying with her. _

_ She had to stop. There was no way she could continue like this.  _

_ She trembled, drawing in ragged breaths as the great wolf circled her and approached from the front, towering over her so she had to tilt her head up to look into his many eyes. _

_ “You are at my mercy,” it growled. _

_ “It appears so.” She levelled her steeliest glare at him but inside every bit of her was quaking. Her mind was spinning, looking for a way to bargain with him or get the upper hand but nothing came. She could only think to beg, to remind him that she hadn’t told anyone his secret, but she would not let herself open her mouth to give him that kind of satisfaction. _

_ “You are mine. Bow to me,” he ordered. “Tell me you are mine.” _

_ She wanted to tell him no, to tell him to fuck right off, but she felt her body obeying as she dropped to her knees. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks. This was it, she would prostrate herself before the elven god and hope he granted her mercy. _

_ “Be gone,” a voice from behind her commanded. “This one is protected.” _

_ The wolf snarled and snapped at the source, aiming its attention now over her shoulder. “She is mine. She was about to declare it so.” _

_ “You would defy me?” _

_ A louder snarl and the wolf shifted, changing to a more humanoid creature with great arthropod legs protruding from its back. It hissed and clacked defiantly before turning and retreating into the bush. Emma watched it retreat with wide eyes before shakily rising to her feet and turning to her rescuer. Solas’s eyes spoke of barely contained fury and did little to comfort her as they examined her dispassionately. _

_ “You are alright?” _

_ “Yes,” she whispered. _

_ He nodded tersely. “Perhaps you would like to tell me why a fear demon pulled an elven legend from your head to torture you with?” _

_ “I don’t know.” Quieter still. _

_ His hands grasped her shoulders, shaking her roughly. “You must know.” _

_ If possible, she was more terrified than she had before. “Solas, I… I…” A fountain of tears burst forth, a symbol of her panic. _

_ His eyes remained fixed on hers, searching and prying secrets from their depths. “You are upset. Perhaps we should converse on this subject at a later time.” _

_ She nodded. She needed time to collect some semblance of a story, an excuse. In the meantime, at least Solas was willing to listen before he straight up murdered her for knowing his identity. _

\--

Emma set out to hide for the day in a corner of the garden. The area had many nooks and crannies, and yet was busy enough that if Solas should find her, she would hopefully be safe for the moment. She grabbed a book and scurried downstairs, knowing the elf frequently slept in - or remained exploring, depending on how one wished to see it.

She could her the brisk tapping of her feet on the stones as she hurried to her destination, book in front of her face to discourage people from stopping her to chat. She was so engrossed in her pathfinding that she forgot to watch for oncoming traffic, so to speak, and quickly found herself sideswiping someone’s shoulder and nearly dropping her book.

“Mother Giselle, I am so sorry!” She squeaked.

“That book must be quite engrossing.”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. It is.” She raised it apologetically and made a movement to continue.

“While I have you here.” Emma reluctantly stilled. “Do you happen to know when the Inquisitor will be returning?”

“My understanding is any day now, but I have no additional information. Sorry.”

“Ah.” The Revered Mother nodded.

“Is there something I can help you with?”  _ Perhaps you will keep me too busy for Solas to interrupt? _

“No. No, I have just received some correspondence and need to speak with the Inquisitor on a sensitive issue.”

“Okay.” Emma turned before her mind and some tugging motion in her chest dragged her back around again. “Wait. It doesn’t have anything to do with Dorian, does it?”

The shock in the woman’s face would have been entertaining if not for the circumstances. “You have the strangest visions, my lady. How strange that you should know the contents of a letter but were unable to predict the arrival of a dragon at Haven.”

Emma was distinctly less amused by the passive aggressive comment. “The Maker works in mysterious ways, I’m sure.”

“Indeed he does. What do you believe he intends by showing you this?”

“Maybe he wants me to encourage you to give Dorian the letter directly rather than encouraging Maxwell to go behind his back?”

“The Tevinter’s very presence here lessens the Inquisitor’s credibility. It would be best for all involved if he were to return to his family.”

“Mother Giselle,” Emma did her best to restrain her irritation. At one point she had liked this woman after all. “I understand that you are concerned for Max and for the Inquisition. We all want what will maximize our success. I also understand that there are those who would not understand or trust Dorian’s relationship with Max or with this organization, but he is a good man who genuinely wants to help. He also wishes to see reforms in his home country and our support could help make that happen. I believe it would be wise to forge a positive relationship with ‘the Tevinter’ and this could be a start.”

“Regardless,” she added. “He’s not going to leave.”

Mother Giselle stared at her for a few moments before nodding her head once in acknowledgement. “I will take your words into consideration. Maker guide you.”

“And you.” Emma turned and finally marched off to find the solitude she had been seeking, looking furtively around for Solas as she did.

No sign of him.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she settled against a wall between two herb planters. She’d never bothered to learn what each herb looked like in person but she hedged a guess that they were growing royal elfroot. Sensible.

She opened her book, sticking it strategically in front of her nose but, in reality, she was not interested in its words. Her mind turned over events again and again. He knew. He knew that she knew. Didn’t he? 

_ Fuck. _

She went through dozens of dumb ideas. ‘I was speaking with a Dalish ambassador.’ ‘I was reading a book about the Dalish.’ ‘I had a vision where I was Dalish and was learning how to protect the clan from Fen’harel.’ Every one of them was idiotic.

Should she just tell him the truth? That she knows and she isn’t planning to do anything about it? Except, that wasn’t exactly true either. She was planning to do something about it, eventually. When they no longer needed him. When Corypheus was all but defeated.

She was so screwed.

She curled up, head resting on her knees, book dangling from one hand, the pretense finished. The best thing she could do would be to stick as close to the truth as possible and obscure the parts that mattered. She formed phrases in her mind, memorizing and mouthing the words to herself until she felt that she would not lost the thread when the time came. 

Tonight. When the time came tonight. Fuck if she was going to deal with that shit now.

She made a real but ultimately futile attempt at pursuing her book before her mind began to wander. 

“I have beaten you, Commander,” a loud voice crowing in success invaded her tiny space. 

Emma stood up, peeking over at the gazebo where Cullen and Dorian had apparently been sitting, not ten metres away, for long enough to play nearly a full game.

“Perhaps next time you can accomplish the feat without cheating.” She wandered closer, her amusement carrying her feet ahead of her.

“Me? Cheat? Emma, dear, have you ever heard such ridiculous slander?”

Cullen turned to see her approaching from behind his shoulder and she grinned at him. “Absolutely, he cheated. No question about it.”

“I will not stand for such nonsense. How dare you malign my infinitely superior intellect. I won’t have it.” He stood, haughtily. “Also I have things to do.” He winked at Emma as he strode past her.

“You, umm, would you like to play?” Cullen bashfully held a rook aloft as he waited for her response.

“I don’t really know how. I mean, I know how the pieces move but I’ve never really understood the strategy. I wouldn’t be much of an opponent.”

Cullen’s eyes danced as he looked up at her. “I can teach you. Please. I’d like to spend some time with you.”

Emma blushed and was relieved to see Cullen’s cheeks reddening along with hers as she moved to sit down.

“You know I played with the Inquisitor shortly before he left,” he said as he began to reset the pieces. Emma helped, working on her side and occasionally holding up pieces in an unspoken question on where they went.

“Did you win?”

“Don’t tell on me, but I let him win.”

A smile played at the corner of her lips. “Why?”

“He’s seemed a bit stressed lately.” Cullen made his first move. “A little frayed around the edges. I- I recognized it because I’ve seen it myself. I thought it might be a nice diversion and something to make him smile.”

“Thank you,” she said as she chose a pawn to move forward, more or less at random.

“For what?”

“For looking out for him. For being kind. Sometimes I make the mistake of thinking I’m the only one who can act and I forget about all the things going on when I’m not looking.”

“That’s why you’re often so anxious.” He raised his eyebrow. “That would be a bad move. See how it opens you needlessly to my bishop?”

She looked down at the board and chose a different move. “I am not always anxious.”

“I didn’t say always,” he teased. “I said often. You fluctuate wildly between stubbornly trying to control things and sinking into complete carefree nonsense. Two extremes, and I never know which I’m going to get.”

A horn sounded from the front gate. It was the distinctive notes the heralded the Inquisitor’s return. Max was back. Emma looked down at the board, not really seeing it, and her eyes flicked in the direction of the Skyhold gate. “Who’s move was it?”

“You want to go greet the Inquisitor, don’t you?”

Emma flushed to her ears. “We can finish our game.”

“No, no. I can tell when my opponent’s mind is somewhere else.” He smiled softly. “I will even accompany you. I have some things I need to speak with Cassandra about.”

They walked together slowly, Emma resisting the urge to skip and sprint to their destination. Not even Solas poking his head out of the rotunda as they passed could ruin her mood and she forced herself to smile and wave at him. She just felt more safe knowing that Max was back.

“Ah! What the fuck is that?” Those were her first words upon seeing the returning party accompanied by a giant dragon’s head. 

“A present for The Iron Bull,” Maxwell called. The man in question was unfortunately nowhere to be seen. “Also, bragging rights.”

“Are you okay? Did anyone get hurt?”

He shook his head. “You should have seen it, Em.” He tossed his reins to a stablehand and hopped down. “Hawke used magic to slam it back to the ground every time it attempted to fly. Sera fired arrows straight into its nostrils and laughed hysterically. Vivienne was a complete badass. She was right up there with Cassandra, slicing at its wings with a magic sword. You would have loved it.”

“Please refrain from referring to me in such vulgar terms, darling.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Emma tucked herself into his arms. “I’m not sure which part I would have loved more: panicking about the wellbeing of people I love or watching a beautiful creature get killed.”

“Beautiful, yes, but also deadly. The dragon was as much a threat to the village as the undead and needed to be dealt with.”

“Boss!” It did not take long for word about the dragon to make it to Bull, apparently, and Emma left Maxwell to gush over his daring deeds with the Qunari.

A hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her into a firm chest. “Miss me,” he teased, his lips tickling her ear.

“Hardly,” Emma scoffed as he released her.

“No?” Hawke lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I missed you.”

Emma grinned. “Okay, maybe I missed you a little bit.”

“I didn’t think about anything but that kiss the whole time I was gone.”

“You are so full of shit,” she laughed. “You fought undead, and a dragon. You met with a Grey Warden to discuss what’s been going on with the Wardens all this time. You took over a fortress. You want me to believe that you thought about kissing me that whole time?”

“Is it so unbelievable?” He smirked.

She snorted. “Yes.”

“Huh. Perhaps you should kiss me again and we can consider how likely it may have been.”

“I don’t think so, Hawke.” Her eyes flit unbidden to where Cullen was deep in conversation with Cassandra and Hawke’s followed.

“Really? You got together with Noodlehead while I was gone? I mean, I’d heard rumours but I never thought he’d be your type.” He sighed. “I guess I should wish you every happiness or something.”

“We’re not together,” she mumbled before quickly collecting herself. “I just don’t kiss men who speak nothing but nonsense to me.”

He smirked, rubbing his thumb idly across her hand where he was still holding it. “Well if that’s it, then I should tell you that I’ve recently taken up with the Chantry and I plan to be a pious and serious individual for the remainder of my days.”

“I’m not sure that would actually stop you speaking nonsense.”

“I am shocked and appalled to hear such blasphemous words. I will have you know that I-”

“Are you nearly finished here? Everyone is going in.” Cullen came up beside her and placed a possessive hand on her lower back. Hawke glowered at him, holding her hand more firmly. She felt trapped, unsure how to deftly exit this very awkward situation. Perhaps she didn’t need to be deft and could simply tell them they were being ridiculous, but their actions were right on the cusp of plausible deniability and she knew neither would admit to acting on insecurities in front of the other. 

Luckily Hawke ended the moment for her. Unluckily, it was in a none too-subtle-manner. “Yes, I have my own unpacking to do but I will claim you for drinks and dancing later, my Lady Prophet.” He kissed her knuckles again and left in a manner that seemed to declare that Cullen was no threat.

Emma stormed away from the both of them, annoyed by their silent assertion of ownership over her. She wrapped her arm through Maxwell’s and looked back at everyone unloading and organizing themselves. “Max…”

She looked at the party for an extra beat as she realized something seemed off. There was one fewer among their number than when they had left. She looked up at Maxwell’s face, the guilt written across it causing her heart to beat a little faster. “Max, where is he?”

He looked pointedly away. “I tried to write you multiple times to explain but I failed each time. It’s better I tell you in person anyways. Blackwall won’t be coming back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma sat and waited. The field of wildflowers told her exactly where she was but there was no sign of Solas yet. She swore she could feel him, hovering at the edges, debating how to have this conversation and preparing himself.
> 
> Of course, she might just be imagining things.
> 
> “It is time for us to speak, shira’lan.” Those were the words he chose when he finally appeared, looming over her and ignoring the empty spot on the bench where he usually sat.


	68. Judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She looked at the party for an extra beat as she realized something seemed off. There was one fewer among their number than when they had left. She looked up at Maxwell’s face, the guilt written across it causing her heart to beat a little faster. “Max, where is he?”
> 
> He looked pointedly away. “I tried to write you multiple times to explain but I failed each time. It’s better I tell you in person anyways. Blackwall won’t be coming back.”

“He is dead.” She heard the words cycling in her head as she followed Maxwell to his room, his glare turning away any visitor who attempted to greet him on his return. “Blackwall is dead.”

She was certain that was what he was going to say as he insisted she sit. As he put a kettle on the fire that had been built for his arrival. As he offered her an extra pillow. As he fiddled with his armour.

“I told him not to come back,” he said eventually. Emma let out a long, whooshing breath, feeling a little lightheaded.  _ So he wasn’t dead then.  _

“You told him not to come back,” she repeated slowly, processing what the words must mean.

“He will stay in Crestwood and help rebuild. He will kill any remaining dead in the area and track down the last of the bandits who fled Caer Bronach. Their change of location will not mean villagers are safe. He will-”

“What about after,” she interrupted. 

“What about after?”

“Can he come back?”

“No. He is a liability and cannot be trusted.” Maxwell sighed. “Quite honestly, I never want to set eyes on him again.”

“... Max.”

“I can hear you wanting to defend him and you don’t even know what he’s done, Em. I don't know why he finally came clean but he’s been lying to us this whole time. His name isn’t even Blackwall. It’s Rainier, but he can’t use it because on the run from the law for killing a family. With  _ children. _ ”

“I know.”

“You know.” He looked at her blankly. “You had a vision?”

She nodded.

“Then how can you be willing to forgive him? He’s been lying to all of us and you just want to bring him back?”

“Not to all of us,” she whispered, eyes lowered.

She watched his mouth hang open, his eyes turning from guilt and anger to betrayal and sadness. “Just how long have you known, Emma?”

“Since the beginning.” She found she couldn’t look at him in that moment, his face showed his hurt too plainly.

“And you kept his secret for him all this time?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Wasn’t your secret to- Emma, we’ve been using the Warden treaties to elicit supplies and men from noble houses and using his name to legitimize it!”

“I know, but Max, it won’t harm you or the Inquisition in any serious way. We are fighting a real threat and we needed those supplies.”

“I suppose you’ve seen this too?” Maxwell slumped down, defeated. Emma squeezed his hand.

“I need some space. I love you but, Maker take me, I am so angry. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“I’m also sorry that I’m not leaving until I convince you to bring him back.”

He jerked away from her, standing and stalking across the room before turning to her in anger. “You must be joking. Do not be this cruel to me.”

Emma quaked, her eyes now watering. She had never seen him look at her with that expression. She had hardly seen it at all. “There is a man named Mornay who will be hanged for Rainier’s crime if he doesn’t hear about it and turn himself in. If he’s in Crestwood, or out in the wilderness again, he may not know in time.”

“Then we’ll fetch this Mornay and bring him to the Inquisition.”

“And what? Keep him in hiding for the rest of his life?”

“I’ll pardon him.”

“Even if you do, it still denies him the opportunity to have the truth come out and live as a truly free man. Max, you must see that he will suffer because you are angry.”

Maxwell raised his head, letting out an anguished bellow to the ceiling. “Enough. Leave me alone, Emma.”

She rose, not bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and left.

\--

_ Emma sat and waited. The field of wildflowers told her exactly where she was but there was no sign of Solas yet. She swore she could feel him, hovering at the edges, debating how to have this conversation and preparing himself. _

_ Of course, she might just be imagining things. _

_ “It is time for us to speak, shira’lan.” Those were the words he chose when he finally appeared, looming over her and ignoring the empty spot on the bench where he usually sat. She watched her fingers as she picked at her nails. She wasn’t sure if she could look up at him without giving anything away in her face. _

_ “Solas, I think I need your help.” She had rehearsed. She could do this. _

_ She could sense that he was startled by her words. He had expected to interrogate her and here she was asking for his support. It was the only thing she could do. She’d spent so long trying to keep him at a distance except when necessary and now he was closer to discovering her secrets than ever. The only thing left to do was try and bring him in so close that he no longer thought he had to look for them. _

_ “I’ve been seeing things- Things I don’t understand. Things that scare me.” _

_ He sat next to her then, putting his hand over hers and gently taking one from her anxious fiddling to hold in his lap, turning her more towards him with the action.  “Tell me what you have seen, ma’falon.” _

_ “You’ll probably think I’ve gone mad. I know you think the Dalish beliefs are all wrong.” _

_ “I believe that they have elements of truth inside them. Please, ma’falon. Tell me what you’ve seen.” His voice was intense, urgent, and he squeezed her hand tightly to nearly the point of pain. _

_ “I think there really is a Dread Wolf, Solas. I keep seeing him but I’m not sure why.” _

_ “What do you mean, you’ve seen him?” His hands were squeezing even tighter now. _

_ “Solas, my hand.” _

_ “I need to know, Emma.” _

_ “You’re hurting me.” He looked down and released her hand suddenly. _

_ “This is important,” he pressed, not bothering to apologize. _

_ “The wolf is planning something. I’m not sure what yet but I can tell that it’s going to be terrible. In my visions, he’s gathering an army. I- I usually see things about people I care about and if I’m seeing this… it must mean it will affect us.” _

_ “Did you see him as anything other than a wolf?” _

_ “I’m not sure. It’s all kind of messy in there, but Solas, why would a god need an army?” _

_ “So you have not seen his face?” _

_ “What? I mean, yes. Six red eyes, menacing. You saw it on the demon.” _

_ He nodded, his alarm decreasing slightly. _

_ “Solas. I’m scared. This scares me far more than Corypheus. He only wants to become a god. What do we do when a real one wants to destroy the world?” _

_ “Fen’harel is not a god.” _

_ She shook her head. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” _

_ “I do believe you, but I have also seen ancient Arlathan and I know that the Evanuris were not gods. Very gifted mages, yes. Immortal beings that wield great power, but not gods.” _

_ “So you think we can stop him?” _

_ “I-” Solas stiffened and looked away. “I do not know.” _

_ “Solas, please. I didn’t tell you all this just to have someone else know. You are wise and you have so much knowledge. If anyone can help me stop a terrible thing from coming to pass, it’s you.” _

_ “It is not so simple, shira’lan.” He stood and walked a few paces, walked back. And again. “What you ask is complicated.” _

_ “How?” _

_ “Fen’harel is not well represented by Dalish legends. They have only half truths that paint him as a deceiver and not to be trusted but reality is more complicated. Perhaps if he is unleashing some great plan, it is for good purpose.” _

_ “Then why are my visions telling me that he will bring only destruction and terror?” _

_ “Sometimes destruction is necessary so you can rebuild.” _

_ “No. Not like this.” _

_ “You cannot know.” _

_ “I can. Solas, there are things in my visions that are confusing and things that I just know. This is one of them. I know it as surely as I know that he is full of regret and guilt. As surely as I know that he is single-minded to his purpose and as surely that I know he is incredibly lonely. It’s a dangerous combination.” _

_ He stared at her, clearly shaken. “You sensed all these things from your visions?” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “These are not the qualities one expects from a god,” he sighed bitterly. _

_ “No. You’re right. He must be just a man, but a dangerous one who could destroy everything and everyone we love. So please, Solas, help me.” _

_ “Alright, ma’falon. I will consider what you have said and whether I can help you.” _

_ \-- _

Maxwell sat on the throne. She thought he’d look smaller against such an enormous piece of furniture but he grew with it somehow, his presence larger and more authoritative than she’d seen it before. So this was the great benefit of a throne, she mused.

Of course, Maxwell deserved the confidence and authority the sight induced. Many did not.

She squeezed Dorian’s hand as they brought forward Alexius. The magister appeared pale, and subdued. He had long since given up. If Dorian was right, he gave up the minute they captured him in Redcliffe and it became apparent Felix would not benefit from his actions.

He said as much, declaring it directly to the man on the throne. His captor. How does one sentence a man who doesn’t care if they live or die?

Emma looked up into Dorian’s face. He was withdrawn, tense and uncomfortable. They already knew what was going to happen but that did not mean it was pleasant for him to watch his mentor face judgment for his crimes. Dorian felt the weight of giving his input on what should be done with the man and it was not an opinion that was taken lightly.

“Gereon Alexius, your crimes are grave indeed. You attempted to kill me. You would have handed the world over to a crazed magister who wishes to be a god. You could have torn apart reality in your efforts to conform time to your needs. These are not forgivable offenses, but there are those who would see your considerable talents do good in this world. You will work for the Inquisition under the strict supervision of Fiona and if she feels you are doing anything underhanded, you will be left to rot in prison until your sorry life ends.”

Dorian gave a terse nod in Maxwell’s direction before turning abruptly to leave. Emma was pretty sure his eyes were moist so she followed him. “Dorian? You okay?”

He waved lazily over his shoulder. “Fine. Mostly bored, really. No one ever tells you how long those things are going to go on. Anyways, I should write Felix. Have a good evening.”

“No way. Not a chance I’m going to leave you alone, Dorian. You don’t have to talk to me but I’m your shadow until I’m sure you’re okay.”

“Then we’re going to need more wine.”

They took the long route to their quarters that went past the wine cellar. (The really, really long way.) Emma let Dorian choose, she hadn’t the slightest idea what each vintage was and he’d never steered her wrong. 

“Fuck feelings,” he toasted as they snuggled up against his headboard. 

“Fuck feelings!” She agreed.

“Max still upset with you?”

She groaned. “Dorian… We were doing ‘fuck feelings’ not ‘let’s talk about feelings’.”

“Consider it payment for the pleasure of my company when I wanted to be alone.”

“I didn’t make you talk about your shit,” she grumbled. “And you secretly wanted me here.”

“I did want to be alone but I would have been considerably more miserable and had no one to pester if I was,” he conceded.

She dropped her head against his shoulder with a grunt.

“I’ll give you three choices of topic. You and Maxwell, you and Cullen, or you and Hawke.”

“Dorian…” Much whinier this time.

“Well I would discuss theoretical applications of Breach physics on time magic but it’s a bit of a sore topic at the moment.”

“I know, let’s talk about you and Maxwell.” She grinned mischievously. “Or maybe you and Bull?”

“Both of those things are entirely imaginary and in your head. Although, if either of them were interested I can hardly say I blame them. I am far too attractive for my own good.”

“S’true,” she mumbled, yawning with the slow descent into a post-wine stupor. “You’re lucky you don’t like girls or we might have a problem.”

She felt him stiffen underneath her. “Why do you think I’m not attracted to women? Just because I find Maxwell attractive does not remove other possibilities.”

Emma sat up, looking at him with slightly narrowed brows. “Dorian, come on.”

An eye roll was his first response. “Is that  _ another  _ thing you’ve seen?”

“It doesn’t take magic visions to see that you’re only attracted to men, Dorian. I’m your friend. You don’t have to hide from me.”

He exhaled slowly. “Come back here.” She allowed him to tug her back into the cuddle. “It’s not exactly approved of in Tevinter. I’m not used to acceptance.”

“It’s more than that, you silly man. I love you just as you are and because of who you are. You are wonderful.”

“Well, you’ve gone and made it awkward now. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

Emma smiled into his chest. She hadn’t even realized that he thought he was keeping secrets about himself. It seemed like it was a good change to have out in the open.

"Do you think Maxwell knows about me?"

“I don’t know… but I think he adores you as much as I do and you don’t have to worry about him judging you either.”

Dorian snorted. “We’ll see.”

“You’ll always have me, anyways.”

Those might have been the last words she spoke that night because it was the last thing she remembered before waking up in a sweaty knot with Dorian and very much desiring a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Emma, I need your help. Please.”
> 
> She reached out and took his hand. “Of course, anything I can do.” She’d never seen him looking this anxious or needy. A crumpled piece of paper in his hand was being held slightly away from his body as though it was dangerous.
> 
> “Maxwell has to go to the Western Approach but I can’t do this alone. Say you’ll come with me.”
> 
> \--
> 
> Author's Note: Oh no! Emma and Maxwell had their first fight :o :( And she's trying to convince Solas to stop Solas? What kind of madcap plan is that? *spreads arms open wide* Hit me with your thoughts and comments, folks! I need them to survive, haha.


	69. Redcliffe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> He stared at her, clearly shaken. “You sensed all these things from your visions?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “These are not the qualities one expects from a god,” he sighed bitterly.
> 
> “No. You’re right. He’s just a man, but a dangerous one who could destroy everything and everyone we love. So please, Solas, help me.”
> 
> “Alright, ma’falon. I will consider what you have said and whether I can help you.”
> 
> \--
> 
> “It doesn’t take magic visions to see that you’re only attracted to men, Dorian. I’m your friend. You don’t have to hide from me.”
> 
> He exhaled slowly. “Come back here.” She allowed him to tug her back into the cuddle. “It’s not exactly approved of in Tevinter. I’m not used to acceptance.”
> 
> “It’s more than that, you silly man. I love you just as you are and because of who you are. You are wonderful.”
> 
> “Well, you’ve gone and made it awkward now. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

“But you’ve just confirmed my intelligence and said they will be at the Ritual Tower. Why go to an abandoned fortress?”

“Emma has never steered us wrong, Stroud. I realize that you have not been with us since the beginning so trust me when I say that if she says we need to march an army to Adamant, then we all believe her.”

Emma’s heart skipped. Those words meant more after what happened with Blackwall. There was a part of her that thought she had lost Maxwell’s trust for good. “Thank you,” she murmured, hoping the look she gave him conveyed just how much she meant it. “The Ritual Tower is only a test. Most of the Wardens are at Adamant. If you go there first, you might be able to save more Wardens from this fate.”  _ And hopefully save yourselves a fight with a dragon and a trip to the Fade.  _

“You realize marching an army across Orlais is not exactly subtle, of course? I can prepare men but it will be slow going and I can’t imagine we will truly be able to take this Erimond by surprise.” Cullen crossed his arms. He was anxious, as much as he refused to show it.

“I could send word to the Empress and Gaspard. They will need to be informed of our movements as it is but if we have them spread rumours that we are interceding in the war, that will mask our destination for a time.”

“Have it done, Josie. Cullen, you have your orders. Leliana, your network will also need to bolster these lies. Hawke, Stroud, rest up. We must be ready to go by week’s end. Dismissed.”

There was a flurry of movement as all participants made to leave but Maxwell grasped Emma’s hand, holding her back from following. “I miss you,” he mumbled, pulling her in. 

“I miss you too.” Her sudden, rapid blinking had nothing to do with watery eyes reacting to his admission.

“Andraste’s ass, it’s only been a day. Am I really so reliant on you?” 

“You were gone for weeks before that.”

“True, but this was different. Please don’t keep anything from me again.”

“Max… I can’t promise that. You know I can’t. Too much knowledge is dangerous. It’s bad enough that I have it.”

He sighed. “You are completely infuriating but I love you.”

“I’m glad,” she smiled into his chest.

“We’ll bring Blackwa- Rainier back when we return and help this man who worked for him. Afterwards, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about him.”

\--

Emma dropped her stack of books onto his desk. He raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“These are some of the books on Dalish legends and history that I found in the library. I thought we could go through them and contrast them with what you know from the Fade and between the sources maybe figure out what he’s planning?”

He looked at the books with distaste. “This is about Fen’harel?” Emma nodded. “Perhaps we should focus on more imminent threats first before turning our attention in this direction?”

“Did you change your mind? Please, Solas.”

“I did not change my mind, ma’falon. I merely feel that this is not as pressing a concern as Grey Wardens binding themselves and demons to Corypheus.”

Emphatic footsteps echoed through the rotunda as Dorian brisked his way in. “Emma. Good. I need you.” He continued straight through and up the stairs, not pausing to see if she was following.

“I-” Her eyes flit back and forth. “Solas, please,” she whispered. “I know Corypheus is important. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve talked to about this. I- I’ll be back in a sec.”

“These have nothing to offer us, shira’lan. I will tell you about Fen’harel, but take these false words away.”

Emma scrunched her face. “Are you sure?”

“Quite.” He waved her away and she gathered the works and trudged up to the library after Dorian. She realized immediately why he’d swept through so quickly as she found him shaking in his alcove, away from prying eyes.

“Emma, I need your help. Please.”

She reached out and took his hand. “Of course, anything I can do.” She’d never seen him looking this anxious or needy. A crumpled piece of paper in his hand was being held slightly away from his body as though it was dangerous.

“Maxwell has to go to the Western Approach but I can’t do this alone and I can’t wait. Say you’ll come with me.”

“Dorian, I would follow you to Minrathous if you asked me.”

A small smile lifted the corner of his lips. “I’m hardly so demanding. Just to Redcliffe. Maxwell wants me to wait until after we save the Wardens but… I can’t. I’m a selfish man and I need to know what my father felt was so important that he has a messenger paid just to wait for me. I should be able to go and catch up by the time they get to Adamant.”

“I might slow you down,” she admitted. “I’m hardly a practiced traveler.”

“A day in either direction, perhaps. I can make it up after I drop you back at Skyhold.”

_ Oh, that is absolutely not happening.  _ But she said nothing.

Of course Cullen insisted that they take a contingent of soldiers with them to the Crossroads because “they had to deliver supplies for the rebuilding efforts in the Hinterlands and would need soldiers to protect them” but Dorian griped the whole way that Cullen didn’t trust him to protect her by himself.

Emma didn’t tell him that she’d more or less received confirmation of that fact before they left. 

“The last time you were outside of Skyhold, someone attempted to take you from… us.”

“I’ll be with Dorian the whole time and nobody knows we are headed there.”

“You have been with people before and still gotten hurt.”

She’d put her hand on his arm, trying to emanate calm. “I was reckless then. I’ve learned a lot more about the dangers out there and about keeping myself safe. I promise not to take any unnecessary risks.”

“I don’t want you taking necessary risks either,” he’d grumbled.

“I know.” She was actually a little surprised at how quickly he’d capitulated but the compromise he presented the next day felt more familiar.

Maxwell, of course, had told Dorian he’d have his head if anything happened to her before he allowed him to even request it of her, but ultimately he’d fought alone with only Dorian at his back before and the Tevinter was the person he would most trust with his family.

Strangely, even without knowing her history of getting hurt, Hawke had offered to send Bear with her for extra protection since he could not go himself. When she declined, he simply pressed a hand to her cheek and asked her to be careful. It seemed even the determinedly irreverent could feel the weight of the impending fight.

Which was how Emma found herself astride a horse for the first time since she’d gotten to Skyhold, trotting along ahead of a cart of provisions and tools and household goods, and heading towards the Hinterlands with Dorian at her side. She had expected Dorian to complain about their pace. The cart was faster than an army, but they were still moving in the opposite direction and not as quickly as they could have gone on their own. He mostly flirted with one of the more handsome soldiers and told her stories in which he was endlessly charming and delightful in order to distract himself from what was waiting for them in Redcliffe.

The Crossroads came soon enough and Emma and Dorian parted ways with the other soldiers after a single evening in the camp. With any luck, they would make Redcliffe within the following day and have a proper sleep in a bed rather than on the ground. Dorian and Emma were both far too spoiled for camping and they were a little underslept and slightly grumpy.

Emma stared when Dorian finally crawled out of the tent more than an hour after dawn and wearing trousers and an ill fitting linen shirt. “What is happening? Have I fallen through another rift? Did Alexius mess with the time stream again?”

Dorian shot her a dirty look. “I’m not sure if you recollect this, but a Tevinter magister recently took over Redcliffe Castle using dangerous time magic and tried to destroy the world. Going undercover in  _ these, _ ” he plucked at them with distaste, “is practically a necessity.”

Emma snorted. “I mean, fair enough, but I wish I had a camera. This should be shared and preserved forever.”

“This will be never spoken of again.” He shook his finger at her, only causing her to laugh harder.

“It will be spoken of forever,” she assured him.

“If you tell Maxwell-”

“I definitely will.”

He made an angry noise. “Remind me again why I invited you along?”

“Because you adore me and need someone to cuddle with on the cold nights.”

“This is Ferelden. I could find a mabari for that task,” he said dryly.

“You couldn’t handle the drool.”

\--

Redcliffe wasn’t as busy as she expected. Of course, her only experience with a town in Thedas was Haven and it was rather overcrowded due to circumstance. “Let’s get a room at the edge of town. I want somewhere to retreat to that’s far away from that tavern.”

Emma followed Dorian inside and bustled up to the front desk. There was no bell. Emma looked at Dorian but he was busy plucking awkwardly at bits of his costume that fit poorly. The poor man looked so uncomfortable. He’d been itchy all day. “Excuse me,” she called out. “Hullo?”

“Eh miss. Sorry. I’m coming.” A man lumbered out of the back, carrying a stack of papers. “Sorry miss.”

The innkeeper was looking at Dorian strangely, perhaps recognizing him from his earlier stay and she could feel Dorian’s anxiety rising. She saw Dorian begin to speak and quickly cut him off. “Good evening, m’lord. Not a problem at all.”

“Oh, I’m no lord.” The man blushed a little. “That’s an interesting accent. Where are you from?”

“What a fun game! Where do I sound like I’m from?” She smiled prettily at him, trying to draw his attention away from Dorian.

“Err, a little Ferelden and a little Marcher.”

She flashed him a bright smile. “You are so good! You must have a chance to observe all sorts of travellers. My mama was from the Free Marches but my father is Ferelden through and through. My husband and I,” she grabbed Dorian’s elbow and pulled him to her, “are travelling all over to see family after our honeymoon, isn’t that right sweetie?” Dorian looked at her in surprise and she pressed on before he could ruin it. “I’m not used to all this travelling, of course. I’m a farm girl at heart, but family is important and poor old Uncle Edden cannot travel very far himself you see and, oh my, I’m running on a bit here aren’t I? We would very much like a room, good sir, if there is one to be had.”

“We certainly have rooms.” The man smiled warmly at her. “I’ll even have the nicest one set up for you, no extra charge. It has an adjoining bath, you see.”

“Oh goodness.” Emma reached across the counter and squeezed the man’s hand. “You are too kind to us. We do not deserve such hospitality. What can I call you, m’lord?”

“Err. Name’s Simmon.”

“It is such a pleasure to meet you, Simmon.” She shook his hand vigorously. “I’m Edith and this is my husband Donnic. Thank you  _ so _ much for taking care of us. You have no idea what it means to us to be treated with such kindness.”

“I- You’re very welcome, Miss Edith. Shall I have a bath drawn in your room?”

Emma pressed her hands to her face emphatically. “Would you really do that for us? I would so appreciate it. Travel dirt is of such a different nature than farm dirt, is it not?”

As soon as the door to their room was closed behind them, Dorian spun around to stare at her. “What in the void was that?”

“What? We are exceptionally non-suspicious and we have a private bath. Speaking of which, dibs!”

“I don’t see why we had to share a room,” he grumbled as Emma began to strip next to the tub. “Are you just going to- Venhedis!” He turned his back to her as she wiggled out of her leggings.

“Sorry. I just REALLY need this bath. Besides, it’s not like I need to worry about you eyeing me up. Are you saying you never have to get naked in front of each other while you’re travelling?”

“Not alone in a private room.”

“Meh. Potato, potahto.”

Dorian threw his hands in the air and moved to begin unpacking. “Why are you talking about potatoes?” 

“Nevermind. Expression where I’m from.” Emma ducked her head under water, rustling some of the dust out of her hair. “In any case, we have to have the same room because if things go poorly tomorrow, I don’t want you to be able to lock me out while you sulk when we both know you’ll really need the company.”

“That’s rather bossy of you.”

Emma snorted. “Like you haven’t been just as heavy-handed with your investment in my wellbeing.”

Dorian rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “Fair enough.”

\--

Emma and Dorian entered the tavern cautiously. It was completely empty. She wondered if Howard Pavus had been buying out the place night after night or if he knew they were in town and arranged to have a quiet place for the one night only.

Dorian had gone back and forth on whether to bring her along. He knew, of course, that he was meeting his father rather than a messenger. Emma did not feel his father’s need to keep the secret in order to convince Dorian to go. She had enough secrets.

“This is rather ridiculous,” he mused as he looked around the empty room.

“I expected the Inquisitor to bring you here,” a voice sounded from the stairs. “But here I find you’ve brought the prophet, who is evidently also your wife.” Howard Pavus smirked, crossing his arms at his own cleverness.

“You know very well that we are not truly married,” Dorian snapped. “And pretending ignorance is not cute,”

“Would it be so terrible, my son?” The magister turned to her. “With your unique gifts and connections, you would be a wonderful addition to our family.”

“I’m sure I am very flattered,” she responded dryly. “Except I’m about as interested in living that lie as your son.”

Howard shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot understand, and yet, I would not like to leave things like this, son.”

“You should have thought about that before what you did.” Dorian glared at his father and Emma reached out and squeezed his hand.

“Do you need me? Or would you like some time alone?”

Dorian looked at his father skeptically. “I only want to talk, son.”

“If I do not return to the inn in an hour, send a search party. I’ve been abducted back to Tevinter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “You know what might be faster? Going north and taking a boat to Val Royeaux.”
> 
> “That would be much more pleasant, but you are taunting me.” Dorian wiggled a finger in her face. “Once I’ve gone far enough through the Frostbacks to get you to Skyhold, I might as well continue through the other side as well.”
> 
> “I’m not going back to Skyhold.”
> 
> “Oh yes you are, troublesome girl. Do you have any idea how angry Maxwell will be if I show up to help take a fortress with you in tow?”
> 
> \--
> 
> Author's Note: I am not sure where this comes from in the game but every fic has Dorian being super pushy and meddlesome about OC relationships such that I think it's just canon that he is. A little bit of turn about seems like fair play here, haha. In other news, Emma is away from safety again? What is going to go wrong this time?!?!


	70. Crestwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings all! Many apologies for the long delay on updating this fic. There have been a multitude of reasons why I am being slow these days. I do have the next few chapters plotted out (plot? in this fic? what?) but I had this chapter plotted as well and it's still been a slow and agonizing mess. (Warning: Chapter is still a mess but, like, I just need to get it out so I can move on. I have decided I hate plot and only want to get back to Emma and Cullen being dorks in love.)
> 
> \--
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “I expected the Inquisitor to bring you here,” a voice sounded from the stairs. “But here I find you’ve brought the prophet, who is evidently also your wife.” Howard Pavus smirked, crossing his arms at his own cleverness.
> 
> “You know very well that we are not truly married,” Dorian snapped. “And pretending ignorance is not cute,”
> 
> “Would it be so terrible, my son?” The magister turned to her. “With your unique gifts and connections, you would be a wonderful addition to our family.”
> 
> “I’m sure I am very flattered,” she responded dryly. “Except I’m about as interested in living that lie as your son.”

It was late when Dorian returned to the inn and crawled into bed next to her. 

“You were supposed to come get me after an hour. I could be halfway to Tevinter already.”

Emma rolled over to curl into his chest. “I have visions about the people I care for and you think I wouldn’t have known if that was a real risk?”

“You could have pretended and burst in dramatically, demanding he release me.”

“Was the conversation really so bad?”

Dorian sighed. “It’s difficult to listen to apologies from someone who’s opinions have not changed. He still wishes I was other than I am. He wants me to come home and be that man, rather than what I am doing.”

“It would be easier,” she acknowledged, remembering conversations that another person should be here for. “It’s very brave of you to reject all that pressure and tradition to be true to yourself instead.”

“Here I thought I was a coward for running away from duty and misery.”

Emma snorted. “You are a Tevinter magister who joined a heretical organization in the South to fight another Tevinter magister who aspires to godhood. You are one of the bravest men I know, Dorian Pavus.”

He grinned down at her but his smile quickly faltered. “He tried to change me, you know. He would have used blood magic to change my tastes so they were more… appropriate. I can never forgive him for that.”

“No one could blame you.”

“At the same time, he’s my father and part of me desires his love and approval... And he says we’re more alike than I think. I can’t forgive him for that either.”

“Well, you’re certainly much better looking.”

Dorian stroked his mustache idly. “True.”

\--

Dorian’s face was sour as they received their travel provisions and tacked horses. “Is it too early to depressed drink about multiple days of travel just to get to mountains and then multiple days of travel through aforementioned mountains?”

“You know what might be faster? Going north and taking a boat to Val Royeaux.”

“That would be much more pleasant, but you are taunting me.” Dorian wiggled a finger in her face. “Once I’ve gone far enough through the Frostbacks to get you to Skyhold, I might as well continue through the other side as well.”

“I’m not going back to Skyhold.”

“Oh yes you are, troublesome girl. Do you have any idea how angry Maxwell will be if I show up to help take a fortress with you in tow?”

“Less angry than he will be if I have to go there all by myself? Look, Dorian,” she sighed. “I could tease, and cajole, and bully you until I get my way. Lord knows I’ve succeeded that way in the past, but I don’t want to. So, I’m simply going to say please. Please let me come with you. I’m worried that things might still go poorly and, if they do, Max will need me.”

“Kaffas!” He glared at her. “You are much easier to say no to when you think you’re being cute.”

“Maybe I just know that my cuteness isn’t as effective on ridiculously handsome men?” She gave him a tentative smile, waiting for his final decision.

“And yet here we are, with me falling at your feet to do your bidding just as every other man and woman in Skyhold does. Fine, I will take you with me. I am not pleased and you will take responsibility for blackmailing me into it once we get there.”

“Deal. One other itty bitty thing?” Emma swung up onto her horse, an action she had become significantly better at over the course of this trip.

“No.” He shook his head as they began to plod towards the road.

“We need to stop in Crestwood.”

“No. Wait, why?”

Emma blushed, knowing Dorian wouldn’t like it. 

“Emma…” He did not like the look on her face. “Blackwall,” he decided. “No. Absolutely not. It’s bad enough that I’ve somehow allowed myself to get talked into bringing you. I will not be confined to a ship with that hairy lummox.”

“You don’t have to  _ talk  _ to him Dorian. Plus, you must admit that having someone who can swing axes and swords around is not a bad idea as we travel across half of Thedas.”

“That Warden - or not, rather - has been banished. It is done. You cannot collect everyone you like around you like lost puppies.”

“Says my favourite puppy.”

“No.”

“Max said we could bring him back after Adamant. We’re going to be  _ right there. _ It’s convenient and helpful, really.”

“Tell me the real reason and I’ll consider it.”

Emma pressed her lips together, considering. “There’s a man named Mornay who will be arrested and hanged for following Blackwa- Rainier’s orders if Blackwall doesn’t come forward.”

“You would not allow your friend to be hanged in his place.” 

“No, but-”

“And if you would, you could simply have the man escorted to Val Royeaux in chains.”

“Neither man will be free until the truth comes out,” she whispered. “It’s important for everyone.”

Dorian a noise of annoyed acknowledgement. “Mhm. And what’s the real, real reason we’re getting him now?”

“Dorian… it’s Blackwall. I know he’s not a real Grey Warden but he believes in them. He’ll want to help. He might be able to help convince some of them to… I don’t know. See reason? He deserves a chance.”

Dorian barked a single, dry laugh. “I suppose any arguments against such a thing would fall a bit flat coming from a Vint. You and Max have given me a second chance, I can hardly deny someone else.”

“You’re not responsible for the sins of your country, Dorian. You can only take ownership for your own actions.” 

They trotted along silently for a few minutes, following the road north. “I haven’t quite sorted out my feelings on the matter but my family had... has slaves, you know,” he said after a while. 

“I assumed,” she responded simply.

“If I didn’t leave Tevinter, I would inherit everything from my father when he passes. Including family slaves.”

“If you didn’t leave Tevinter, you’d be a very different man than the one I know.”

“There’s something worth thinking about.”

Things were somber for a while after that.

\--

Crestwood was less depressing than Emma remembered. The bustling activity of rebuilding was underway. The lack of undead probably helped. “Hello?” She called out to a farmer tending to his field. The man looked up, smiling at Emma before warily eyeing up Dorian, who had changed back into his regular flashy style.

“Ehh, who are you?”

“We’re with the Inquisition.” His body language visibly relaxed at the organization’s title. “We’re looking for Blackwall.”

“Blackwall? Ain’t no Blackwall here.”

Dorian squinted. “You sure? Huge, hairier than a bear, big deep voice, smells like stables?”

Emma shot him a look of disapproval. “What about Thom?”

“Oh, Rainier! Hairy like a bear indeed,” the farmer chuckled. “I think he’s down at ol’ missus Dartford’s place today. Roof all but fell in after the storm last week. Needed fixin’.”

The farmer pointed them in the right direction and they turned their horses in down the road. Their presence did not go unnoticed; every individual outdoors stopped to stare at them. “Not the most friendly lot,” Dorian joked as the sixth set of suspicious eyes followed them down the road.

“They’ve been through a lot - Bandits isolating and attacking them, undead crawling out of the water, discovering one of their own killed many of their loved ones. I wouldn’t be trusting either. At least you didn’t have to put on a costume to disguise yourself.”

“I thought I told you to forget that ever occurred.”

“I think we’re here,” she responded, completely ignoring his accusation. Emma hopped off her horse, looping the reins around a fence post. She followed the loud noise of nails being hammered on up to the house, craning her gaze skywards. “Hello?” The noise stopped. “Hello, I’m looking for a Thom Rainier?”

A long pause followed her question. “What do you want with him?” The voice that responded was gruff and unmistakable. 

Emma heard a door slam and a short, old woman came running around the corner with a broom held aloft like a baseball bat. “You can’t have him,” she shrieked. “He’s a good man now, whatever his past. You go away. You can’t have him.” She looked for all the world like she was about to whack Emma over the head with it until it was suddenly pulled from her hands by an unseen force and floated over to Dorian.

“Interesting choice of weapon,” he commented. “But don’t threaten people who clearly have more power than you.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Blackwall’s voice sounded along with some thudding of movement from the back of the roof. “I’ll come peacefully.” Mrs. Dartford continued to shoot daggers at both from her eyes as they waited for the man to appear.

Emma felt nervous. It was her instructions that had resulted in him being left behind here and they hadn’t parted on the best terms. She wasn’t sure how he would react to her presence.

“Emma?” He stopped short on seeing her face. Evidently her voice hadn’t been quite as recognizable, but then he hadn’t played a game that gave him familiarity with its sound before meeting her in the flesh. “It’s alright Mrs. Dartford. These are… these are good people.”

The woman immediately gathered herself, standing a little straighter and smoothing her hair back. “Well,” she said primly. “I suppose I’d better make some tea then.” She shot a withering look at Dorian. “Do bring that broom in when you have a moment. I’ve only got the one.”

“Why are you here?” His question was abrupt, fired at her as soon as the woman was out of earshot.

“How are you, Thom?” She wanted - needed - to know. The urge to reconnect had reared up as soon as she saw his face. She wasn’t even angry anymore, though she supposed she probably should be. Varric would most likely have words to say about her need to love everyone. Lucky Dorian was here instead. 

He looked slightly surprised at her question. “I am… well. This is good honest work, even if I’m not working to save the world anymore. At least I can help people.” He leaned against the wall. “Did Maxwell decide to turn me in after all? Should I prepare for my execution?” His voice was not bitter in the least, only resolved and a little sad.

“What? No, I’m here to bring you back.”

He looked to Dorian who merely shrugged as if to say,  _ don’t ask me. It wasn’t my idea.  _

“Let’s have some tea.”

\--

Inside, Mrs. Dartford chattered almost incessantly, leaving no room for Emma to have a serious discussion with Blackwall - Thom, she reminded herself. She should get used to calling him Thom now. 

Honestly, she almost thought he might have had it done this way on purpose. He seemed content to let the old woman take up most of the air in the room, with stories and with trading occasional barbs with Dorian. Meanwhile, Emma watched. He seemed more comfortable in his skin. His posture was relaxed in a way she’d only seen in brief moments where it was just the two of them. The benefits of being honest, apparently.

They negotiated a shared meal between their provisions and the produce that was seasonal in Crestwood, Thom seemingly content to let the entire evening disappear in a haze of small talk and planning for the next day’s work. Emma was growing increasingly frustrated, trying to determine a kind way to excuse herself and bring Thom with her up until the moment they were suddenly and summarily dismissed. It was the woman’s bedtime, after all.

“Come on,” Thom muttered. “I’ve got a small place. It’s nothing fancy but there’s a roof and a bed.”

It was small; a single room of maybe four hundred square feet. It was clear he didn’t spend much time here unless he was sleeping. Emma wasn’t surprised. He’d never been one to engage many domestic amenities. Dorian looked around with barely contained disdain. The bed was visibly lumpy, there was one angular chair next to a cluttered table. He sat gingerly on the chair, as though afraid he would become irreparably dirty from contact with the furniture - although it wasn’t truly dirty, only simple and disused.

“Trevelyan didn’t send you, did he?” Thom dropped heavily onto the bed, looking up at Emma warily.

She was silent to long while she determined how to answer the question. It was answer enough.

“I won’t return with you.”

“Thom…”

“I’ve accepted my punishment. It’s honestly more lenient than I deserve and I’m not ungrateful. I won’t push myself into places where I am not wanted.”

“I didn’t just come here on a whim, you know. ‘Oh, hey, Dorian. You know what would be a lark? Running up to Crestwood to fetch Thom and dragging him back to Skyhold to surprise everyone.’ Does that sound like me?”

The matching skepticism from both men in the room was not what she was expecting. “Okay, yes, I’m a bit impulsive but I’m not delusional. Max and I had a talk. He was planning to bring you back after the current mission.”

“Then he can do that,” Thom grumbled. “I’ll stay here and help how I can until that time.”

“Great. So pleased we made this detour,” Dorian quipped.

Emma ignored him. “He’s going to Adamant. The Grey Wardens are binding themselves to demons. They want to enter the Deep Roads and kill the Old Gods, ending Blight forever. This is how they’ve chosen to deal with all experiencing the call.”

The horror on his face was painful to see. “That sounds like a gamble at best and at worst…” He shook his head. 

Emma sat beside him and took his hand. “At worst they’re being manipulated by Corypheus, yes. You can help. I wanted to give you that option.”

“How could I possibly help? Trevelyan’s got enough swords.”

“It’s not your sword I want, Thom.” She reached her free hand across and prodded him gently in the chest. “You have been working in the name of what the Wardens stand for since the real Blackwall died. You can bring your hope and faith in them, and Blackwall’s name, and help some of them see that what they’re doing is born out of fear. Some of them will listen to you.”

“I’m not using that name anymore.”

Emma shrugged. “I’m not going to force you to do anything. I just thought you deserved all the information. We’ll be leaving in the morning either way.”

Thom exhaled, his breath half sigh and half growl. “I’ll come. I owe you just as much as I owe Trevelyan.” He stood, giving a quick bow. “I apologize for betraying your trust, my lady. My sword and my heart are yours for as long as you need them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate version of previous scene for giggles:  
> “It’s not your sword I want, Thom.”  
> “That’s what she said-”  
> “God damn it, Dorian! I regret teaching you that joke already!”
> 
> \--
> 
> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma opened the door to find it would only open halfway, bumping up against some object behind it. She chucked her pack through the opening and stepped through after it to look at what was obstructing the opening. She clasped her hand over her mouth to stop the scream burbling up at the sight of a dead body on her floor. A dagger stood proudly from its chest and blood had soaked the clothing over its torso.
> 
> "Well, isn't this my lucky day?" Emma moved her hands to her daggers as she turned to face the man behind her.


	71. Land and Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “It’s not your sword I want, Thom.” She reached her free hand across and prodded him gently in the chest. “You have been working in the name of what the Wardens stand for since the real Blackwall died. You can bring your hope and faith in them, and Blackwall’s name, and help some of them see that what they’re doing is born out of fear. Some of them will listen to you.”
> 
> “I’m not using that name anymore.”
> 
> Emma shrugged. “I’m not going to force you to do anything. I just thought you deserved all the information. We’ll be leaving in the morning either way.”
> 
> Thom exhaled, his breath half sigh and half growl. “I’ll come. I owe you just as much as I owe Trevelyan.” He stood, giving a quick bow. “I apologize for betraying your trust, my lady. My sword and my heart are yours for as long as you need them.”

Emma looked up at the ship and hiked her over-packed rucksack higher up her shoulders. They had left the horses in Crestwood with the Inquisition soldiers still stationed there, requiring they carry all their belongings with them. It was a late departure. Blackwall had run every remaining soldier through priority tasks for the villagers with exhaustive detail before he would consent to leaving. Emma had grown fond of the horses over the past week and left explicit care instructions that included Winnie’s love of apples and brushing and Eeyore’s need to be sung to after a hard day’s work. 

Obviously she had named them while on the road. 

“I thought it would be bigger,” she commented when Thom pointed to the ship he had bought passage on.

“It’s quite sizeable, my lady.”

“For open ocean travel?”

“We’ll be hugging the coastline most of the way,” he reassured her. “But it is quite sufficient for open ocean as well.”

Emma was skeptical. She had been on a cruise exactly once on earth and even that enormous ship had rocked enough during a windy day that she had to lay down to avoid the worst of her nausea. 

“There is a bigger one,” he added. “But it’s a freighter and any place we might have purchased space would not be up to certain standards.” He shot a quick look towards Dorian.

“Well, if my presence is the only thing that keeps you from traveling like savages than I believe it’s a good thing I am here.” Dorian swept past them with a haughty sniff but he winked at Emma as he passed to ensure she knew he was joking.

Emma shrugged and followed him up the gangplank. 

“You might as well wait, Dorian,” Blackwall grumbled. “They only had two rooms available so we’ll be bunking together.”

“We certainly will not!” Dorian looked completely horrified. 

“I’ll bunk with either of you. I don’t mind,” Emma hurriedly interjected before either man said something truly offensive. 

“Good. That will be much more pleasant.” Dorian looped his arm through Emma’s as a pronouncement of their new sleeping arrangements but quickly left to find whatever alcohol was available after learning the location of the room.

She and Blackwall parted once below decks, their rooms being at opposite ends of the boat. It wasn’t ideal for safety but space was limited when trying to arrange passage to Val Royeaux at the last minute. She found herself glad to be sharing with Dorian rather than completely isolated from both men, whatever the reason for it might have been. She followed the passageway, trying not to feel overly claustrophobic. At least the ship hadn’t set sail and started rocking yet. 

The doors were marked with symbols rather than numbers and Emma kept looking down at the piece of parchment with her room’s symbol on it. It wasn’t anything she knew from before and it kept falling out of her head. This whole experience was disorienting. Eventually she managed to match it to a scratched mark next to a door near the front of the ship. She opened it to find it would only open halfway, bumping up against some object behind it. She chucked her pack through the opening and stepped through after it to look at what was obstructing the opening. She clasped her hand over her mouth to stop the scream burbling up at the sight of a dead body on her floor. A dagger stood proudly from its chest and blood had soaked the clothing over its torso.

"Well, isn't this my lucky day?" Emma moved her hands to her daggers as she turned to face the man behind her. By the time she’d completed her rotation, she had them held warily in front of her, ready to parry an incoming attack. It did not come. That man who spoke lounged on her bed, hands clasped behind his head. “You should be more cautious where you point those things,” he commented, his mouth crooked in an amused grin. “I merely wished to appreciate that it is not every day one gets to save the life of a beautiful woman.”

Emma took his measure as he spoke, absorbing the dusky skin and blond hair, the pointed ears, the unique facial tattoo. She lazily returned her daggers to their scabbards. 

“You give up rather quickly. The Nightingale was correct. You are indeed in need of a reminder that the world is more dangerous than you give it credit for.”

“I lowered my daggers for you. I would not have for him.” Emma jerked her head towards the body on the ground.

“He would have killed you already,” the elf countered. “Although I will admit that I am curious what makes me deserve such special consideration? Is it my immense charm? My remarkable good looks?”

Emma heard the door creak as Dorian pushed his way in behind her. “You would not believe the swill they keep stocked here,” he was saying as he held a wine bottle aloft. A fireball was summoned into his hand nearly instantaneously as he took in the situation.

“It’s alright, Dorian. I mean, not the wine situation obviously but we’ll have to make do.” He maintained the fireball, his eyes only briefly flicking to her before settling back on the possible threat. “Dorian, this is Zevran. Evidently he was sent by Leliana.”

“Was he indeed.” He still did not drop his stance.

Zevran raised an eyebrow. “I did not tell you my name.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“So the rumours are true. I can’t help but wonder what other things you might know about me.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively before his face grew serious once again. “And yet you failed to predict him.” Zevran nodded towards the body as he rolled off the bed. He pulled the dagger from the man’s chest and pulled out a cloth to wipe it clean with.

“My death is always a possibility. If I worried too much about it, I’d never have any fun.” Part of her wondered at where the cavalier attitude came from, the words came out of her mouth without a thought. The other part of her knew she’d be panicking about all this later. Maybe excitement over meeting Zevran was short circuiting normal reactions but she couldn’t find the energy to worry about an assassination attempt after her brief fright. “A Crow,” she hazarded, looking to Zevran for confirmation.

“Of course. One doesn’t waste my talents on the average assassin.”

“Charming,” Dorian commented dryly, but he finally let the fire in his palm dissipate.

“Who hired him?”

“Who knows? Someone wanted you dead. Money exchanged hands. Here he is.” 

“And here you are,” Dorian added, acting surprisingly like an overprotective mother hen. “How did you manage to come across this plot exactly?”

“Ah, well, that part is a little awkward to explain. Perhaps we can agree that we all have a past, yes? I might have worked for them for a bit.”

Emma snorted at his characterization of ‘a bit’. 

“Then your intervention is entirely suspect and I recommend you leave before I have this corpse dismember you and toss you overboard.”

“Whoa!” Emma stepped in front of Dorian, holding her hands up placatingly. “First, that feels a bit excessive. Second, we can trust Zevran.”

From behind her, she heard Zevran’s curious echo of the question on Dorian’s face. “Indeed?”

“He’s a hero of the fifth blight. He’s an associate of Leliana’s. I trust him, Dorian.”

“An Antivan Crow is a hero of the fifth blight?”

Emma pressed her lips together as she turned to Zevran. “I’m not from around here, but I take it the history books tend to leave you out?”

“The history books leave out many things when they are inconvenient. It is of no matter to me.” He paused thoughtfully before bowing low to Emma. “As delightful as this has been, I do have additional contractual obligations and must leave.”

“Wait, really? What if more come?”

Zevran chuckled. “Then you will likely not survive the attempt, but no more will be making their way onto this boat so you are quite safe for the time being.”

“Oh.” Emma couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Up until this point, she hadn’t met anyone she wasn’t expecting from the games and she wanted to spend more time with him.

“Unless the lady was hoping for some time together before she departs?”

“What? Oh, no. No. I mean, no.” Emma blushed and stammered unforgivably even as she considered saying yes. Because Zevran. 

Yum.

“Perhaps the gentleman?” Zevran smirked and she was amazed in the moment that he would proposition someone who had spent the last few minutes threatening to kill him. In retrospect she was less surprised.

Dorian jerked backwards, also surprised at the sudden turn. “No,” he eventually managed, trying his hardest to look affronted.

Zevran shrugged. “I often find it is a pleasant way to celebrate a victory, but not everyone has such tastes. A shame. Farewell, my lady prophet. Next time we meet, do bring your beautiful friends who won’t threaten me, if possible.” Somehow, with those words, he was gone.

“You should have taken him up on it, I hear rumour he’s quite talented,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, well. As it turns out, I have been kissing someone else lately so I wasn’t particularly in need.”

“We have been travelling together for over a weeks and you didn’t tell me?”

“I see what you’re doing and it won’t work. We can gossip another time.” Dorian sighed, melting into a chair. “You didn’t foresee an assassination attempt?”

“No.” She looked down at her feet, really wanting to tell him the whole truth. If she was going to tell anyone though, Maxwell deserved to know first. “I don’t see anything about myself. I have no idea how events surrounding me will turn out. That part is all guesswork.”

“That’s… inconvenient.”

She laughed, too loud. Too hard. “It really is.” The laughter quickly devolved into tears, the emotions she should have been having this whole time suddenly bubbling to consciousness. Dorian was up again and wrapping arms around her before she’d even registered that she was crying. “Someone wants me killed,” she sobbed.

“Then I suppose it is a good thing we’ve brought the hairy bear man along with us. Between the two of us, you shouldn’t ever have to be alone.”

She sniffed. “Sorry. I don’t know why I cry like this at the slightest provocation.”

“Assassination is hardly  _ slight _ , my dear. Cry away. I will be here.”

Just the words of reassurance were enough to bring her down from the height of her tears. “Dorian?”

“Yes, darling Emma?”

“What are we going to do about the body?”

\--

Emma sighed in relief as her feet hit ground again. “Oh sweet Maker, thank you.” She smiled at how easily she invoked the Maker now. They had spent a week on the ship getting to Val Royeaux and then gotten onto another, smaller boat to travel up one of the estuaries to an Inquisition outpost. 

She was seasick the entire damned time.

“I will walk back before I get on another boat,” she announced.

“I’m sure we can find you a horse, m’lady.” Blackwall was right beside her. He never left her side these days. Not since he found out about the assassin. He’d even given up his room, sleeping on a chair or the floor in the room with her and Dorian. 

Dorian was slightly more trusting, but still hovered unnaturally often. They were all a bit sick of each other, honestly, and sniping comments between Dorian and Blackwall had become far too frequent.

“Lady Bennett. This way please.” A young woman wearing Inquisition scout armour saluted and immediately turned on her heel and led them to where four horses were tied up. “Lady Nightingale sent word that you would be arriving today. We are about two hours by horse to the outpost.”

“The way that woman knows everything is nearly as unnerving as the way you know everything,” Blackwall grumbled.

Dorian snorted. “Please. It’s hardly demonic. It’s not even magic.”

“That’s what makes it so creepy.”

\--

_ Emma was startled. She walked the long stretch of sand cautiously, swiping a hand across a forehead grown sweaty from heat and direct sun. She was lucid dreaming again. She hadn’t the entire time they were travelling, too on edge to settle into a proper Fade journey. She had thought she wouldn’t naturally fall into it again so quickly after settling into an Inquisition camp. There was no reason to think she was safer here and yet here she was, deep in the Fade. _

_ Had something called her here? She peered around, looking for a demon in disguise. What would it appear as in the desert? Would it scare her with a dragon or sandstorm? Lure her with an oasis? Bring her to despair with unending emptiness and sand? _

_ She kept creeping forward. This definitely wasn’t a regular dream. She wouldn’t dream anything so boring. What was going on? She considered trying to change it, but she was curious and cautious. _

_ She looked down as something wiggled in the corner of her vision. A small green sprout bloomed into a familiar red flower.  _

_ She smiled, and made it blue.  _

_ All around her the landscape began to transform, growing green and sprouting flowers all around her. Trees were off in the distance and she could hear the sound of birds in their branches. The temperature dropped to something more mild and a breeze cooled the sweat on her skin. _

_ “How long would you have continued for?” There was laughter in his voice and his eyes were sparkling with amusement when she turned to face him. They were more blue than she remembered. Too long staring at only Dorian and Blackwall. _

_ “As long as I needed.” She smiled and raised a teasing eyebrow. “Have I become more patient than you in our time apart?”  _

_ Solas snorted. “Hardly. Though your caution does speak to a decrease in impulsivity.” _

_ “Yes. I am wise and restrained now,” she joked. _

_ “Change is difficult, ma’falon. Do not devalue personal growth.” _

_ She hummed and sank down into the flowers, inhaling their scent happily. This might be her last calm before battle and death and demons, and she was spending it with Solas of all people. She felt surprisingly comfortable around this Solas; he was lighthearted and supportive.  _ _ She could almost forget who he really was. _

_ “I was surprised to find you so close in the Fade. Why have you travelled so far, shira’lan?” _

_ “Did Leliana not send word? We wrote to Skyhold to inform her and Josie that I would be coming with Dorian. She even figured out our schedule and sent a scout to meet us at port. She would have known that we’ll catch up with you tomorrow.” _

_ “It does not surprise me that our Spymaster would find it amusing to leave your arrival as a surprise.” _

_ Emma almost laughed until her mind skipped forward to her actual arrival. “Great. So I’ll have to deal with Max’s fresh irritation tomorrow, rather than one which has mellowed.” _

_ “The Inquisitor is not currently in camp.” _

_ “What? Where is he?” _

_ “He went with Stroud to investigate the Ritual Tower.” _

_ “What?” Emma bolted upright, all remaining relaxation gone. “He was supposed to go straight to Adamant. That was our plan,” she protested. _

_ “Stroud received confirmation that there were currently wardens at the tower and requested they attend. He was quite insistent.” _

_ “Shit. Shit! Solas, you have to wake me up.” _

_ “I fail to see what you can do. He won’t be receiving any ravens until he returns.” _

_ “I’m with Dorian and Blackwall. I’ll send them after him. We have to stop him. Please, Solas. It could save lives.” _

_ He nodded once. _

And she woke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma sunk down low at the sight of a dozen men on horseback in the distance. She did not need to be noticed now. Not when she was getting so close. Too late. The whole group turned and headed towards her. There was no hiding now.
> 
> She held her breath as the storm of horses approached. She was going to die. She knew it. What the hell was she thinking? Only, were those Inquisition colours?
> 
> "Rylen?" She called out as the face at the front of the troop became discernible.
> 
> "Solas informed us you'd be coming this way. Alone." Rylen's wry smile indicated both amusement and judgement. Fair enough. It was pretty risky. "Maker, is Rutherford mad at you," he laughed.
> 
> \--
> 
> AN: Plot is hard and I hate it. Love you all though! Thanks for your patience!


	72. Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! We're back with an update!!! I'm sorry about the long wait times these days.
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “The Inquisitor is not currently in camp.”
> 
> “What? Where is he?”
> 
> “He went with Stroud to investigate the Ritual Tower.”
> 
> “What?” Emma bolted upright, all remaining relaxation gone. “He was supposed to go straight to Adamant. That was our plan,” she protested.
> 
> “Stroud received confirmation that there were currently wardens at the tower and requested they attend. He was quite insistent.”
> 
> “Shit. Shit! Solas, you have to wake me up.”
> 
> “I fail to see what you can do. He won’t be receiving any ravens until he returns.”
> 
> “I’m with Dorian and Blackwall. I’ll send them after him. We have to stop him. Please, Solas. It could save lives.”

Emma watched as Dorian and Blackwall kicked off, running their horses in the direction to intercept Maxwell. She felt the relief of their immediate support somewhere deep in her muscles. The only protest had centered around leaving her alone but her rising panic had hurried them along.

Besides, she was only a half day’s ride from where the army had camped to wait for Maxwell if she managed to keep up a decent pace. She even talked a scout into traveling with her a short way before they peeled off to the south. 

It would be fine. She was practically there already, she thought as the scout left her. She hadn’t even seen a single varghest, only vast expanses of sand. And, something on the horizon, growing larger as it headed east and eventually began to take shape.

Emma sunk down low at the sight of a dozen men on horseback in the distance. Bandits, maybe. She did not need to be noticed. Not when she was getting so close.  _ Too late. _ The whole group turned and headed towards her. There was no hiding now.

She held her breath as the storm of horses approached. She was going to die. She knew it. What the hell was she thinking? Only, were those Inquisition colours?

"Rylen?" She called out as the face at the front of the troop became discernible.

"Solas informed us you'd be coming this way. Alone." Rylen's wry smile indicated both amusement and judgement. Fair enough. It was pretty risky. "Maker, is Rutherford mad at you," he laughed.

\--

Solas was waiting for her when the group came cantering back to the temporary encampment. It was huge. It must’ve contained half the Inquisition soldiers. She was looking around at the soldiers, mostly milling about idly with some monitoring the perimeter or performing necessary duties, when she felt a hand connect with hers and offer support as she dismounted from her horse. 

She looked in surprise at Solas. She wasn’t used to this nice, helpful, supportive Solas after dancing in wary circles around him for so long. Was it just time, or was this because she knew about Fen’Harel? He might be trying to throw her off, or simply keep her close so he could watch her. 

Honestly, even if he was manipulating her, it was kind of nice. There were worse pretend allies to have for the time being.

“I’m afraid I may owe you an apology, ma’falon,” he said as her feet hit the ground, steadying her with his hands. 

“Oh?”

“I thought to help you get here safely, but I may have also attracted some anger and frustration for you.”

Emma waved away his words. “Everyone who is upset would be as soon as I arrived anyways. It’s not your actions that have gotten me into trouble. I’m glad you’re here though. I need to speak with you about something.”

“Not right now you don’t,” Rylen said as he lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I have instructions to take you straight to the commander and if he discovers you were here for even five minutes before he found out, I’m quite sure I’ll be on latrine duty for the remainder of this trip.”

Emma shared an exasperated look with Solas before allowing Rylen to direct her across camp to the western side where the officers' tents were located. She wiped her palms over her thighs, leaving small streaks of sweat behind. She wasn’t looking forward to the dressing down she was about to get. 

Rylen stopped, gesturing to the command tent. As if she couldn’t tell which one it was. “You coming in?”

“Not a chance,” he laughed.

“Coward.”

She took a deep breath and stepped inside. She hadn’t seen Cullen in weeks now and took the opportunity to watch him, smiling at how he was just the same. He leaned over a makeshift desk, pouring over something with a woman in bulky armour while a hand absentmindedly rubbed at his temple. 

Cullen’s eyes flicked upwards at the awareness that someone had entered the space and he locked eyes with her. “Dismissed,” he said to the soldier, not turning his gaze away for a moment.

She waited, watching him in turn. 

He stepped towards her and she suddenly struggled to maintain eye contact, every part of her quaking with expectation. She just hoped he’d yell. The restrained, quiet anger that came when he was truly seething was something she couldn’t handle.

He hovered over her, his large bulk obstructing her view and she waited for the harsh words. They didn’t come. A hand cupped her cheek and slid to the back of her head, matching another tangling in her hair. He pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes closing. “Thank the Maker you’re safe.”

He breathed, still except for fingers manipulating strands of her hair, and Emma smiled as she absorbed his relief and warmth. She brought a hand up to his cheek, feeling stubble that was longer than usual and he tilted his head into the caress.

Perhaps he wasn’t angry with her after all.

Cullen pulled back, taking her hand from his cheek gently even as his eyes hardened. “What were you thinking?”

Perhaps she’d relaxed too soon.

“Cullen, I-”

“No. Don’t do that. You know you have behaved like an impulsive and irresponsible girl again and you could have gotten yourself killed. Maker help me, if we get out of this battle alive, I will kill you myself just to save the headache.”

“No. You don’t do _that_ ,” she fired back. “I made the decision to come here thoughtfully. What are you trying to suggest exactly? That I decided I was in the mood for a nice jaunt across Orlais to the desert because I thought a battle would be a fun time?”

“Then why are you here, Emma? What could possibly be worth it?”

“I brought Thom, for one.”

He sputtered. “Blackwall? How could an extra sword possibly make a difference?”

“It’s not about his sword. He can convince some of the wardens not to fight. It will save lives on both sides.”

She could see him struggling, the urge to save the lives of his men conflicting with his need to protect her. “You could have sent him without you. You could have gone back to Skyhold,” he eventually retorted.”

“Alone? It’s not like Dorian and Blackwall would have had time to escort me back before coming this way. It would have been just as dangerous and I wouldn’t have been here in case anything changes and you need my knowledge.” 

“Your knowledge isn’t worth your safety!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know how many lives I might be able to save.”

“I don’t  _ care,  _ Emma!”

“Yes, you do. You’re mad and you don’t want me here, but you care about every single life in this camp and if it were your safety, you would happily risk it for them.”

Cullen let out a long and shuddering exhale, turning away to brace his hands on his desk. “There is no arguing with you.”

“Not generally, no.”

“You are impossible. There’s no sending you back now. Do you have any idea how helpless you make me feel?”

She stared at his tense frame for a moment, hit by the vulnerability and honesty. She had been trying to be more responsible, to listen to him and to make him feel like he could trust her to consider her well-being. She was apparently still failing. She placed a soft hand on his arm and leaned her head against his back.

“During the battle, you will stay in camp and be nowhere near the fighting.”

“Agreed.”

“Until then, I don’t want you out of my sight.”

\--

Emma hadn’t slept all night. Cullen had ordered another cot brought to his tent for her to sleep on and had been up most of the night reviewing formations and moving squads around in his plans but she wouldn’t have slept anyways. She was too tense, waiting on news about Max. Did Dorian and Thom get to him in time?

She sat just outside Cullen’s tent with Solas so they could converse while he held a meeting with some of his lieutenants. It was almost relaxing, but then Solas didn’t cluck over her like a mother hen and become irate whenever she did something slightly risky. 

“Solas, do you remember the terror demon?”

“The one who took the form of Fen’Harel? Yes.”

“You… you ordered it away. It was, I don’t know, scared of you?”

Solas stiffened, a near imperceptible movement in his already straight posture, but his fingers worried slightly at the knee of his leggings. “It was not afraid of me. I have wandered the Fade many times and made many relationship with spirits there. It is likely it knew of me and wished not to challenge me, but it was not afraid. My knowledge does not command such feelings.”

“Ah. I thought maybe you had some power over it or something.”  _ Like, some Elvhen god-like ancient being power. _

“To what end does your questioning lead?”

“Have you ever heard of a terror demon called Nightmare?”

His mouth pressed into a thin line, tight with recognition. “I have. Your nightmares are not from that creature, ma’falon. They are simply normal nightmares.”

“No, it’s not-” Emma jerked her head as the sounds of commotion interrupted her thoughts. She stood, craning her head and pushing up on her toes before running to meet the returning party. Cullen would simply have to forgive her. It wasn’t as though she were leaving camp or would be difficult to find. 

Her heart raced. She would know the moment she saw their faces.

And she did.

She saw it in Max’s crestfallen expression, in Dorian’s look of guilt, in the grim set of Blackwall’s jaw. Cassandra and Varric appeared utterly shaken. Only Vivienne had the wherewithal to school her expression, though the tightness in her jaw indicated unpleasant thoughts. It wasn’t good. She trembled, the fear emanating from her core in tremulous waves that shook her whole body. 

“Why?” She refused to look at Hawke or Stroud. She simply couldn’t. She stared instead at Maxwell through watery eyes. She was so angry. So scared. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” 

He shook his head. 

“It’s my fault.” She heard Stroud’s voice from her right. “I wanted to help. I insisted.”

Emma maintained her focus on Maxwell. “Did you manage to save anyone?”

“No,” Stroud answered.

“Erimond?”

The heavy silence confirmed that everything had gone down as it had in the game. 

“You were supposed to trust me.” It was all she could manage before she left, fleeing to anywhere that she could be alone. She needed to think, to plan how she could possibly correct things. She stormed in no particular direction, only stopping when she reached the edge of camp to curl into the shaded sand next to the last tent. 

What now? She had had one plan to save them, one plan to avoid the whole Fade-Nightmare-Demon fiasco. She had been devastated at the choice and it was a game, she couldn’t imagine Max having to carry that weight for real.

Someone settled in beside her and she closed her eyes. Emma wasn’t ready to talk to him. “If I find sand inside my trousers because of this, I’ll never forgive you.” She let out a slow exhale in relief and dropped her head onto his shoulder.  _ Dorian.  _

“We tried, little hummingbird. It was half over by the time we arrived.” She said nothing. There was nothing to say. “How bad is it?”

“People falling physically into the Fade and not everyone coming out bad. Maxwell living with the weight of what happened in there bad.”

“That's pretty bad. I suppose it wouldn’t help at all to point out that you’ve likely already saved loads of people and that every death is the fault of Corypheus and not of yours, or even Maxwell’s or Stroud’s?”

“Not really.”

“Would it help for me sit with you a bit longer?”

“Yes.”

\--

Emma looked around the tent at the expectant eyes waiting to see how they should adjust their plans. They were waiting on her, hoping what she had to say wasn’t so bad. It was absurd. Her, standing in front of a team of leaders at a strategy meeting for battle. Cullen, Cassandra, Rylen, Hawke, and Stroud were all looking to her for information. Meanwhile, she only watched Maxwell, the one person who wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

How was she supposed to tell people that the dragon would be coming? Cullen had made preparations in case, she had made sure of that, but now to basically affirm that the trip to the tower had probably killed any chance of ending the battle before it showed up? How was she supposed to explain that the party would fall physically into the Fade and there might not be any preventing it if the alternative was falling to their death or being roasted by dragon fire?

In the end, Maxwell gave his companions a choice. No one had to fight with him if they did not wish to. Fighting for the cause was one thing, risking being trapped physically in the Fade was another entirely. 

Emma was unsurprised that everyone volunteered; even Sera did so with copious swearing. She was sure if Bull was there he would have stood by Maxwell’s side as well. Ultimately Blackwall’s determination, Solas’s curiosity and Varric’s steadfast friendship bowled over everyone else and they would have nothing other than being in the vanguard with their leader. Dorian’s strained expression at being told he would be left behind was just one part of the preparations that tugged at her and made her want to retreat into herself. Battle strategy expanded from there and Emma had nothing to do with that part, awkwardly creeping away from any further conversation that reminded her of the death and destruction to come.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You know, you’re not a very subtle fortune teller,” Hawke smirked. 

Emma jumped. “Maferath’s hairy blue balls did you scare me!”

“You’ve been hiding.”

“I wanted some alone time. There’s about to be a battle. It’s emotional.”

“You’ve been hiding specifically from me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve gone through great pains over the past couple days not to be near me whenever it’s unnecessary and that you haven’t looked me in the eyes once since joining us.”

“Hawke, I-”

“So I keep thinking. Either I did something to piss you off, even though we were apart and even though you’ve forgiven me for being a shit in the past, or you don’t want to be near me for another reason. I think you’ve seen me die and you don’t want me to know that it’s going to happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Emma sat, rail stiff, hands folded on the desk. She sat and she waited as time stretched on and she didn’t know what was happening. How long did battles take anyways? Would she hear news before evening fell? She had no idea, so she sat. She sat and she waited. When the deafening screech of Corypheus’s lyrium dragon sounded from nearby, she dropped her head into her hands and moaned.
> 
> Her distress was penetrated by the sounds of chaos outside. She heard yelling. There was something wrong, alarmed shouts coming from those who maintained camp and supported the soldiers who also hadn’t marched into battle.
> 
> Were they under attack?
> 
> \--
> 
> Oh boy. For those who are still reading this strange thing and stuck around after the time off, thank you so much for your patience!! Your comments keep me going, or at least staring guiltily at the screen when the writing isn't happening, so let me know your thoughts if you want to and... yeah. Love you all!


	73. Adamant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, CW for battle-related gore and major character death. Second, decided to give longer recaps now that I'm not able to update as frequently. :)
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “Then why are you here, Emma? What could possibly be worth it?”
> 
> “I brought Thom, for one.”
> 
> He sputtered. “Blackwall? How could an extra sword possibly make a difference?”
> 
> “It’s not about his sword. He can convince some of the wardens not to fight. It will save lives on both sides.”
> 
> \--
> 
> “Solas, do you remember the terror demon?”
> 
> “The one who took the form of Fen’Harel? Yes.”
> 
> “You… you ordered it away. It was, I don’t know, scared of you?”
> 
> Solas stiffened, a near imperceptible movement in his already straight posture, but his fingers worried slightly at the knee of his leggings. “It was not afraid of me. I have wandered the Fade many times and made many relationship with spirits there. It is likely it knew of me and wished not to challenge me, but it was not afraid. My knowledge does not command such feelings.”
> 
> “Ah. I thought maybe you had some power over it or something.” Like, some Elvhen god-like ancient being power.
> 
> \--
> 
> "Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve gone through great pains over the past couple days not to be near me whenever it’s unnecessary and that you haven’t looked me in the eyes once since joining us.”
> 
> “Hawke, I-”
> 
> “So I keep thinking. Either I did something to piss you off, even though we were apart and even though you’ve forgiven me for being a shit in the past, or you don’t want to be near me for another reason. I think you’ve seen me die and you don’t want me to know that it’s going to happen.”

He took it well. At least, he took it quietly. She had shared that not everyone came out of the Fade in her visions, but she hadn’t shared was that the outcomes she saw were limited to Hawke and Stroud. She told Hawke now. 

He nodded, the set of his jaw showing not only acceptance, but determination. “I haven’t done much of worth since Kirkwall and I have many regrets. Being here with the Inquisition, with Trevelyan, with you - It makes me want to be better. It makes me want to do something worthwhile again. If this is what that thing is, then so be it.”

In the end, she let him kiss her. 

It was probably a mistake. She knew he had stronger feelings for her than she did for him but she wanted desperately to see him smile. She might not ever see him again, after all. When he left for the battle, he swung up onto his horse with a rowsing “Let’s go be heroes!” and winked at her. Some people laughed with him, at least, even if Emma didn’t.

She grabbed Maxwell before he left. She couldn’t let him fall into that place that preyed on your fears thinking she blamed him. Thinking she hated him. She wrapped her arms around him and felt his instinctually do the same. “I love you. It’s not your fault,” she said into his shoulder.

He clutched at her. “I hate that I let you down. I hate that I made things worse.”

She shook her head as best she could, pressed as it was into his skin. “It was a long shot anyway. It might always have turned out just the same.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make it untrue.”

She watched as the entire army marched away. 

She sighed.

\--

Emma sat, rail stiff, hands folded on the desk. She sat and she waited as time stretched on and she didn’t know what was happening. How long did battles take anyways? Would she hear news before evening fell? She had no idea, so she sat. She sat and she waited. When the deafening screech of Corypheus’s lyrium dragon sounded from nearby, she dropped her head into her hands and moaned.

Her distress was penetrated by the sounds of chaos outside. She heard yelling. There was something wrong, alarmed shouts coming from those who maintained camp and supported the soldiers who also hadn’t marched into battle.

Were they under attack?

Emma stood, her heart pounding loudly, and slowly pulled her daggers out. Should she wait? Burst out and start throwing slashes around? What gave her the most tactical advantage? What gave her any advantage? She cast a look around the tent. Maybe she should just hide under the desk?

No. If the rest of the Inquisition could do it, she would face death with dignity. She took a deep breath and stepped out.

A whirlwind of activity burst around her. Smoke rose into the air towards the south end of camp. A scout raced past her. She stared for a moment and dropped the daggers back into their scabbards. There was a strange, tinny clink that sounded over the more distance crackling of flames and raised voices and she looked down at her scabbard in confusion. “Don’t just stand there,” someone shouted. “That dragon lit half the camp on fire!”

The words were like a motor under her feet and Emma chased after them towards the fire. Half the camp turned out to be around a dozen tents but the tarps were smoking heavily and floating embers threatened everything nearby. One of the tents contained hundreds of rations. People were throwing buckets of sand on top of the flames, attempting to douse them with the only readily available resource.

“Focus on the structures nearest the rest of camp,” someone instructed.

“Let’s move everything else away before it spreads,” she called out, even as she began pulling up tent poles. A few people joined her, dragging the fabric tents away from easy reach of the flaming embers. Thankfully there was no breeze to speak of; embers wouldn’t spread very far.

Her eyes burned and she felt like the smoke was choking her but she kept working. She didn't know how much time had passed. Across from her, a young man dropped his bucket of sand and wavered. Emma darted out to catch him as he toppled backwards. “Fuck,” she grunted under his weight, looping her arms under his armpits and dragging him away from where the smoke was concentrated. “Hey kid. You still with me?”

A raspy intake of breath shook its way out of him, followed by heavy coughing. No one was paying attention, still focused on dousing the flames. “Just hang on, okay? I’m no healer, but I think you’ll be okay now that you’re upwind of the smoke.”

“Water?” His voice was hoarse and pained.

Emma nodded, before running to the nearest supply tent. “Please have water,” she begged it as she ducked inside. A crate with full waterskins sat just to her right. “Success.”  _ Talking to yourself while stressed out is normal, right? _ She grabbed the side of the crate, determined to drag the whole damned thing back with her. That kid wasn’t the only one who would need water. She pulled. It didn’t budge. She pulled really, really hard. _Damn_ __._ A dozen straps looped over my shoulders it is then. _

She started loading them up onto her back and arms, piling up as much as she could reasonably bring back. It was only a couple hundred metres. Shuffling through the tent flap, she left lines from dragging feet through the sandy desert floor behind her.  _ Slightly overloaded, but you got this.  _ She pushed one of the straps a bit further up her shoulder and turned towards the smoking remains to the south. 

A strange snarl shivered its way up her spine and she froze. She heard the thuds of two loud footsteps and then they stopped. She slowly, as slowly as possible, turned around to see a hulking quillback ready to pounce, likely drawn by the smell of smoke and burning food. “Okay,” she said low and soft, as though trying to soothe a reactive dog. “I’m just going to very slowly lower these waterskins. You’re going to stay right there and not attack me.” She maintained eye contact and remained upright as she let her knees bend and brought the skins towards the ground, dropping them off her arms as soon as they had. The sudden movement of skins collapsing on top of each other caused the thing to hiss and take another step forward.

It truly was huge, the size of a bull with a muscular chest to match, and covered in rough skin that looked inches thick. Emma couldn’t remember if the quills were poisonous but she was more concerned about teeth and charging right now anyways.

“It’s okay. No need to panic.” She brought her hands to her scabbards, drawing her daggers even as she took a step backwards. “Stay in camp, they said. You’ll be safe there, they said. Not working out great for either of us is it bud?”

The quillback charged, hissing and snarling as it thundered through camp towards her. It was loud but Emma shouted anyways as she dove out of the way, hoping someone would hear and come save her.

She scrambled to her feet, her daggers held in front of her warily. She thought to stab at it from behind but held off in case it decided one charge was enough and fucked off. 

It did not.

It came back towards her but she was more ready this time, sliding to the side and dragging a dagger through its flesh as it passed her. She nearly vomited at the blood spilling out of it, suddenly realizing she hadn’t had much practice hurting real targets. She had no time to consider how ill-prepared she was before it was turning and coming back. It’s tail whipped back and forth and it held its head low to the ground.

It jumped towards her in an aggressive display, letting its paws hit the ground with a heavy thud.  _ Best go on the offensive now.  _ When it jumped again, she darted forward and thrust her daggers in its neck before losing her footing and crashing to the ground as it continued to push forward, trying to bite her. She pushed up on the daggers, barely holding it off as blood poured onto her chest.

She could feel her arms shaking with the effort of it and the thing’s great maw was snapping closer to her each time.  _ I’m going to die,  _ she thought just before an arrow pierced straight through its eye and the whole beast shuddered and went limp, its body collapsing on top of her. Her body screamed in pain.

It was too heavy. She anxiously ruminated on how she would die being crushed or drowning in the beast’s blood if whoever shot the arrow didn’t get there first. 

“Are you okay?” She heard a woman’s voice from somewhere beyond the massive flesh above her. “I heard a shout and… are you still alive?”

“Help,” Emma barely managed to choke out. It was tough to refill her lungs. 

“Hang on.” After a minute, the woman was wedging a staff left in camp under the quillback and using it to leverage it off Emma as much as possible. Emma scraped her way across the sand and out from underneath it.

Everything hurt. But she was alive.

\--

Emma idly ran the cloth over her dagger, staring at the horizon where the fortress must be. She wished she could see, hear, something. Others were making dinner and dealing with the aftermath of the fire. She’d been forbidden. Broken ribs and a sprained ankle put her on sitting duty, apparently. She wanted to argue but the parts of her that were screaming for attention (even after taking elfroot) convinced her to listen to reason.

Her dagger was long since clean but she just kept polishing as she watched the skyline for any sign of movement until the sun had set and she couldn’t see much beyond the circle of light from the fire.

“Go to sleep. You need rest after what happened. We can’t do anything until the morning.”

Emma sighed. Not being able to do anything didn’t make it any easier.

“The Herald will survive. He has survived an explosion and the Fade itself. What could a Warden possibly do to him?”

Emma looked up at the woman who had saved her life. She was older, perhaps fifty something. She didn’t see many people who made her feel young in Thedas. She saw men in their early thirties commanding armies and ruling countries. All the war, blight, and politics tended to limit lifespans. Still, this woman had lifted hundreds of pounds of weight after fighting fire for over an hour and then got a shocked and useless Emma washed and changed out of bloody clothing. Yes, she made her feel young.

Emma nodded. There wasn’t anything else to say. She sighed and slid her dagger into its scabbard.  _ Clink.  _ That sound again. It sounded loose. Was something broken? She pulled the knife out, examining it for chinks and found only a smooth line. She twisted the sheathe, turning it upside down and watching as something dull and metal fell out.

“You planning on shopping in the middle of this war?” The woman chuckled. “Just nip over to Val Royeaux for some fancy cakes?”

Emma smiled, puzzled. “No. I didn’t know it was in there.” She plucked the silver piece off the ground, turning it in her fingers so that the image of Andraste faced her. “Strange.”

The woman grinned. “Must be lucky.”

Emma’s head jerked up at how the words echoed her own thoughts, her mind conjuring images of Cullen, unbidden. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s Ferelden. You don’t get many coins minted in Ferelden since the Blight destroyed or shut down all of the minting operations. Until about a year ago all Ferelden coins were from before.”

Emma frowned at her. “How can you tell?”

“The image of Andraste. Coins minted in Orlais look different.”

“Oh,” she said softly. She looked at the coin again, imagining an anxious thumb worrying its surface. It was probably a coincidence. But she tucked it away for safekeeping just in case.

\--

Morning brought more pain, and news as well.

“You’re not going to have a fun time,” she was informed as a scout helped her onto a horse. He was right. Even at a slow pace, the jostling was hell on her ribs. She didn’t mind though. A runner had arrived mid-morning, informing them that the battle was won and the camp was to be moved to the fortress.

They only had pack horses with them, but Emma was given one and saved the walking as a wagon’s worth of supplies had been lost in the fire. She felt a bit guilty, lots of people were recovering from smoke inhalation but no one else had been crushed by a giant monster and found themselves with an ankle the size of a grapefruit. The idea of making the Inquisition’s prophet walk on such an injury likely sent multiple people into fits. Not arguing was a kindness, despite her continued guilt at her inutility.

Adamant itself was horrifying. The aftermath of battle was red across the sands and stones. Soldiers dragged the bodies of enemies and comrades alike into designated areas. She could smell death and sick in the air. She instinctively raised her hands to her mouth, as though to cover her stunned expression. Like anyone cared that she was unprepared to look at so much death.

“Hey there hummingbird,” Dorian said as he approached her horse. She focused in on him. She couldn’t think about all the nameless NPCs who were real people here. Real people who died. She had no information she could use to save them. She could only focus on what she knew. 

Dorian reached up and helped lower her from her horse, thankfully avoiding her ribs. Someone took her horse away. The whole scene felt unreal. There was no sign of Maxwell, but she didn’t see Cullen or Cassandra either so perhaps there was a meeting going on inside the fortress. “The Inquisitor?” She looked at him hopefully and he shook his head. 

“Gone a full day now.”

“He’ll be back,” she said, reassuring herself as much as him. “It was never clear how long he’d be gone for.” Yet, part of her remembered the presence of fighting and demons when he exited the Fade. Wasn’t he supposed to be back already?

“Of course. I couldn’t imagine the thing that could defeat that man.”

“Right.” An awkward silence settled over them. 

“Let’s get you settled in,” he eventually offered. “We’ll be here for a little while recovering and planning, no matter if he returns now or… Well, we’ll get you settled in anyways.”

Settled in for Emma meant her sack of clothes and personal items dropped on a cot before she began hobbling around the fort with a cane. She’d done this before, unable to walk on her own. She took to using it again much more quickly than the first time. 

“What are you doing,” Cassandra had demanded when she came across her clumsily navigating a stairway. 

“Trying to figure out where Max will reemerge,” she admitted. “I know it’s open to the sky and there are platforms around.”

Cassandra grimaced and moved to help Emma finish the last couple steps. “Cullen believes you are resting in your room,” she said, seemingly from nowhere.

“He should know better,” Emma laughed. It was a tired and forced laugh, but it was something. “I’m happy to let him continue thinking that so he can focus on what he needs to.”

She expected Cassandra to leave after she reached the bottom of the steps but she turned to walk with her, keeping her shoulder underneath Emma’s arm for support.

“He cares a great deal for you.” Emma remained silent. “I had hoped that maybe-”

A crackling sound cut off her words. A rift was forming below, just barely alerting the soldiers before demons came pouring out. More than she had expected. “Stay here,” Cassandra commanded and ran off to fight.

Emma watched, eyes wide as swords met flesh and shadow and bone. They were well trained, these men. She watched, as Solas stepped from the green haze and barely paused before sending lightning into the nearest creature.

They were back. Her heart pounded, both nervous and triumphant. They were back!

A sorrow demon flew up towards her and her hands flew to unadorned legs. She had no weapons on her. A bolt pierced its neck just before it reached the platform on which she stood and as it fell she saw Varric behind it reloading Bianca for the next round. 

Her eyes searched the chaos.  _ Stroud.  _ Her first thought was a guilty one. A half-formed feeling of disappointment. She knew Hawke was ready to sacrifice himself and yet she had hoped. And part of her blamed Stroud for undermining her plans. She was angry at him. 

_ Fuck, Hawke.  _ She wasn’t surprised that she wanted to cry. He was an unforgivable rake but he wanted to do better and he’d never have the chance.  _ Shit.  _

A terror demon was suddenly thrown against the wall with the force of a trebuchet, smashing below her and shaking the ground. She jumped. From the left, a broken column surged over and crashed on top of it. But Solas was off to the right, throwing up barriers, so who did--

_ Hawke. _

Her face broke into a triumphant grin. He was there, spinning his staff with a flourish that could match Dorian’s. He made it. Hawke made it!  _ But how? _

Her eyes flit to Solas.  _ Did he take her warning and figure something out?  _

Maxwell dropped out of the rift, landing like a superhero and scanning the scene for enemies just as the last demon was defeated. He rose and turned, holding out his palm and connecting his mark to the rift. Everything grew brighter.

_ But wait- _

She could hear the crackling, buzzing noise of the rift changing.

_ Where is- _

It closed and Emma pushed forward to the edge of the platform, almost running despite her ankle. Maxwell was talking, addressing the soldiers, but she didn’t hear a word he said. Her eyes searched the crowd.

_ Where is Thom? _

He made brief eye contact with her. His eyes were dark and he shook his head. It was nearly imperceptible but she could always read his face.

Her hands flew to her mouth and she was faintly aware of her knees crashing against the stone floor. Somewhere, she thought she heard someone cry out.

_ Thom was dead. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so my inability to publish regularly anymore (what even happened?! Haha) may have undermined this thing I've been doing and setting up for multiple chapters now. Blackwall using information from Emma to keep his cover, then feeling extreme guilt and confessing, being ejected from the Inquisition and Emma heading out specifically to bring him back because she's stubborn AF and wanted to push him back into his canon redemption arc... all leading up to me knowing that he was going to die. So, uhh, hopefully that didn't come too much out of left field? I dunno. Please don't throw things at me!!
> 
> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Sera sat on the steps below, picking up tiny pebbles and idly throwing them in front of her. Emma steeled herself and approached. Sera ignored her as she sat down and brushed her forearm across her face, as if smearing some tears onto her tunic would disguise the fact that she’d been crying.
> 
> “You’re supposed to know things,” she said snapped. “Why’d you bring him anyway? He coulda been safe in Crestwood building houses and stuff.”
> 
> “Sera, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I- I don’t really know what I’m doing.” She exhaled shakily. “Fuck.”


	74. Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Maxwell dropped out of the rift, landing like a superhero and scanning the scene for enemies just as the last demon was defeated. He rose and turned, holding out his palm and connecting his mark to the rift. Everything grew brighter.
> 
> But wait-
> 
> She could hear the crackling, buzzing noise of the rift changing.
> 
> Where is-
> 
> It closed and Emma pushed forward to the edge of the platform, almost running despite her ankle. Maxwell was talking, addressing the soldiers, but she didn’t hear a word he said. Her eyes searched the crowd.
> 
> Where is Thom?
> 
> He made brief eye contact with her. His eyes were dark and he shook his head. It was nearly imperceptible but she could always read his face.
> 
> Her hands flew to her mouth and she was faintly aware of her knees crashing against the stone floor. Somewhere, she thought she heard someone cry out.
> 
> Thom was dead.

She felt like her head had been hit with a sledgehammer. Emma slowly wedged open her eyes, testing to see how much worse it would make the pain. She felt dazed. 

Everything hurt. Her ribs and ankle, thanks to her unfortunate encounter. Her knees, aching from where they’d smashed into stone. Her throat, raw and sharp. It must have been her making all that noise after all. She could hardly remember. She had definitely been crying, her entire body called out for water.

She wasn’t in her own room. She shifted, turning her head to look at her surroundings. Cullen, from behind his desk, noticed her movements and scrambled to a standing position. “You’re awake.” He wavered awkwardly. “We, uhh, thought you shouldn’t be alone when you woke up.” His hand moved to the back of his neck. 

“Thank you.” Her voice came out hoarse and weak as she moved to sit up on the couch she found herself spread out on.

Cullen grabbed a pitcher and began pouring a cup of water. He moved around his desk, stumbling on the corner and just catching himself. 

She took it and sipped, the cool liquid soothing her throat and promising her body an eventual chance at recovery. 

“How- How are you?” Cullen knelt in front of her, his ambers eyes searching her face for some piece of information, something to hold on to. “You weren’t really reachable last night. It was as if you had left your body altogether.”

Emma tried to remember. It was just blurry pain. She didn’t remember coming to Cullen’s office. She remembered crying and a feeling of emptiness. She thought she remembered concerned voices but no words or faces. She thought she might have been carried at some point.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s my fault. How do I live with knowing that, Cullen?” 

“It’s not your fault. Rainier made a choice. You minimize his sacrifice by taking the blame.”

Emma opened her mouth to speak and found she had no words.

“What can I do?”

She answered silently, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her ribs screamed at her but she didn’t care. She needed the physical contact more. Cullen leaned forward, shifting to rest on his knees, and gently ran his hands up her legs to rest at her hips. They remained like that for a bit, Emma drinking in the support as though her body was as deprived of care as it was of water.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, pulling away.

“Don’t be.”

“So many people have died. I saw the bodies out there. I’m not the only one who lost someone important to them and here I am taking up your attention when you have so many people who need your leadership right now.”

Cullen smiled warmly, brushing hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear. His other hand he left on her hip, offering a comforting warmth that helped ground her. “They had my presence for much of the battle’s aftermath. I was able to do work while you slept. If I did not think I could afford to be here, I would not.”

Emma swallowed. “Max. How is he?”

“The Inquisitor is currently negotiating with the Grey Wardens to ensure their forthcoming allegiance to the ideals and goals of the Inquisition. He nearly had them all exiled but I believe he felt Rainier’s actions would be better served through reform.”

“No, but  _ how  _ is he.”

Cullen tilted his head quizzically. “He is much more used to death and sacrifice than you are. He will be fine.”

She hoped so, and she wondered for the first time whether Thom’s sacrifice was at Maxwell’s direction. It was, after all, the Inquisitor who chose who died in the games. She wasn’t sure she could handle knowing that she’d sent Thom into a situation where Maxwell’s lingering anger determined he should be the one to die.

“I should go to him. That’s why I came. I wanted to support him. I-”

“The Inquisitor will be best supported by knowing that you are looking after yourself. He has a great deal to take care of over the next few days. Unfortunately that means any reckoning with his feelings will have to wait.”

Everything inside her recoiled at that idea. “That’s not how it should be,” she protested.

“We are at war, Emma. Many things are not as they should be.”

A soft rapping at the door frame saved her from having to respond. They both looked up to see Hawke and Emma couldn’t help but notice how quickly Cullen pulled away. “I’ll go get you something to eat,” he said, leaving before she even had a moment to tell him he could stay.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Hawke said, not moving from the doorway. “I wanted to speak with you.”

Emma pat the spot next her on the couch. “You look tired.”

“I look like shit. I don’t think I’ve slept a wink since before the battle... I’m so sorry,” he sighed as he sat next to her. “It should have been me. I’m just a scoundrel with more passion than sense. Not much good to anyone anymore... I can tell you cared about him.”

“Thom was my friend. I cared about him a lot,” she confirmed. “But please don’t apologize for being alive.”

“It still should have been me. I insisted." His face twisted in a grimace and Emma could feel the remorse pouring from him. "Told the Inquisitor I’d hold off the demon so they could escape and then Stroud insisted it should be him. We were arguing and Rainier had already run off, leaving us no other choice but to return to the world without him. I’m so sorry.”

“Hawke. Please stop. I was happy when I saw you had made it. I’m sorry if my sadness about Thom makes you feel otherwise.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, gathering her hand in both of his and kissing her knuckles. It felt like relief, gratitude.

“The Wardens are going to Weisshaupt to recover and rebuild. Stroud wants me to go with them. He thinks I can be the moral compass that stops them from repeating the same mistakes. Can you believe that?” He laughed dryly. “Not sure I’ve done anything moral since I left Kirkwall.”

“You helped the Inquisition. We wouldn’t even have wardens to save if it wasn’t for you.”

“That was just cleaning up the mess I made by not killing Corypheus properly the first time.” He looked down at where there hands were joined and she felt his focus shift. “Do you think I should go?”

“Do you want to?”

“I guess that depends. I was kind of hoping that someone might give me a reason to stay.”

“Hawke…”

“I can wait. I don’t need any promises right now. I just need to know that I’m staying for a chance at something.”

“I just can’t think about that right now. I can hardly think about anything.”

“Right. Foolish of me. I apologize.”

Emma took a slow breath, watching his hands as they anxiously rubbed and manipulated her own. “You barely know me, Hawke. You like this idea of me that you’ve built up in your head as someone who can help you be better but that’s not based on anything real. You’re just not used to pursuing someone who didn’t fall into bed with you at the word “Champion” and who chastises you for pushing boundaries.

“And the truth is,” she continued. “You are perfectly capable of doing what’s right and becoming the person you want to be all on your own and I’m a complete mess. I can’t help you.”

“Well, that was strangely complimentary and damning at the same time.”

“Go to Weisshaupt, Hawke. If it’s something you want to do and you feel you can do good there, go. We can write and get to know a little more about each other, and maybe I’ll discover that I feel differently soon enough, and maybe your feelings will fade. We can afford to find out.”

“It would be much simpler if you could just look into the future and tell,” he joked.

“Wouldn’t it though?” 

Hawke smiled, staring at his hand where he continued to play with hers. 

Cullen cleared his throat from the doorway, looking uncomfortable. His eyes darted to their joined fingers. “I brought enough for three. I need to get some work done and I thought you might want Hawke to stay.”

Hawke frowned. “I have some preparations to make. The Wardens are planning to head out as soon as possible, before Trevelyan changes his mind.”

“The Inquisitor does not renege on his agreements,” Cullen grumbled as he set the food down on his desk.

“Sure,” Hawke shrugged. “But they know they fucked up and they’re nervous. Maker, Cullen. Not everything I say is intended to stoke conflict. Just because- Nevermind. I should go.”

“I apologize. Please stay and eat. It- It would make Emma happy.”

“No. I should go. She’s all yours, Rutherford.” Hawke kissed her hand again before releasing it. “I will write. And when you miss me so dreadfully in a week that you can’t take my absence any longer, tell me and I’ll tease you mercilessly about it.” Emma huffed an affectionate laugh, genuine for the first time in days. “I’ll come back but the teasing comes first.”

“He’s going to Weisshaupt with the Wardens,” Cullen guessed once Hawke had left, a statement and a question all at once.

“He is.”

Cullen visibly swallowed as he carefully portioned out a plate of food. “Ah. I thought you would want him to stay with the Inquisition.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Because of course she did. She just didn’t want him to stay for the reasons he wanted.

“He would have stayed if you’d asked it of him.” Cullen sat beside her, sliding the plate of food onto her lap.

She shook her head, picking up some novel Orlesian fruit that looked like a date. “He would have stayed if I… if the Inquisition had anything to offer him that the Wardens didn’t.”

“Oh.” Cullen took a slice of buttered bread from the plate and chewed on it thoughtfully. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. “I thought that he-”

“Cullen, I really don’t want to talk about Hawke right now. Please. Not given everything that has happened over the last couple days and especially not with you.”

“Of course." Cullen pressed his lips together, a series of emotions registering on his face all at once. "How can I help you?”

\--

Emma eventually decided she was brave enough to leave the safety of Cullen’s office and get some fresh air. It seemed important, for some reason. Like if she waited too long she would just never do it. She wandered the perimeter slowly, using her cane to ease the weight off her ankle, and focused on projecting stoicism and strength. 

It helped that she didn’t pass anyone she knew very well. She would have instantly melted into a fresh puddle of tears if Varric had asked how she was holding up.

Sera sat on the steps below, picking up tiny pebbles and idly throwing them in front of her. Emma steeled herself and approached. Sera ignored her as she sat down, but brushed her forearm across her face as if smearing some tears onto her tunic would disguise the fact that she’d been crying.

“You’re supposed to know things,” she said snapped. “Why’d you bring him anyway? He coulda been safe in Crestwood building houses and stuff.”

“Sera, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I- I don’t really know what I’m doing.” She exhaled shakily. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe you should stop meddling then.” 

Emma said nothing. She wasn’t even sure whether Sera was right or not.

“Not all your fault,” she sighed. “It’s duty and honor. He’s always gotta do the noble thing. It’s dumb. He’s dumb. I hate him so much!”

Sera stood and walked away, kicking a bit of loose rubble as she left.

Emma watched her leave. A dull ache throbbed in her chest and s he wanted to go home. She looked out over the horizon and had the strange thought that home was now Skyhold. She wasn't craving the comfort of her childhood home, her mother's warm hugs, or a holiday meal. She was craving bookish cuddles in the library with Dorian and shooting the shit at the tavern with Bull and Varric and even having her ass handed to her in the practice ring by whoever would offer their time. 

She missed her new home, and it wouldn't be the same without Thom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are directly converted to love in my head and my writing is powered on love! Plus I think you'll like the next chapter so help me write it faster!
> 
> Next time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Frustrated, Emma threw her pillow against the wall. She felt ridiculous. Of course being at Skyhold wouldn’t magically make everything better. Weeks of oscillating between despair and dissociation wouldn’t be cured by stone walls and a familiar bed.
> 
> She couldn’t stay in her room anymore. She needed air. She slid out from under her covers and made for the exit. 
> 
> It was raining. Emma tilted her face to the sky and let the wet drops splash on her skin. She wasn’t sure if the place knew what she needed or it simply felt her sadness and was mirroring it back at her. Maybe neither but if there was magic in this place, she felt certain it saw her as she slowly walked along the ramparts. 
> 
> She stopped, looking out into the distance. She could see nothing beyond Skyhold’s walls. It was strangely comforting.
> 
> “Emma, what in Maker’s name are you doing?”


	75. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOODNESS. Chapter 75?! Over 100,000 words. Over 550 kudos. Over 200 subscription. This is the most blessed piece of nonsense ever. Thank you all <3 I don't know if you'll recall but I had a couple pretty major plot points land on chapter 50. Hopefully this lives up to chapter 75 standards. 
> 
> CW - V. Brief allusion to suicide.
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet: 
> 
> Emma took a slow breath, watching his hands as they anxiously rubbed and manipulated hers. “You barely know me, Hawke. You like this idea of me that you’ve built up in your head as someone who can help you be better but that’s not based on anything real. You’re just not used to pursuing someone who didn’t fall into bed with you at the word “Champion” and who chastises you for pushing boundaries.
> 
> “And the truth is,” she continued. “You are perfectly capable of doing what’s right and becoming the person you want to be all on your own and I’m a complete mess. I can’t help you.”
> 
> “Well, that was strangely complimentary and damning at the same time.”
> 
> “Go to Weisshaupt, Hawke. If it’s something you want to do and you feel you can do good there, go. We can write and get to know a little more about each other, and maybe I’ll discover that I feel differently soon enough, and maybe your feelings will fade. We can afford to find out.”
> 
> \--
> 
> “Sera, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I- I don’t really know what I’m doing.” She exhaled shakily. “Fuck.”
> 
> “Yeah, well. Maybe you should stop meddling then.” 
> 
> Emma said nothing. She wasn’t even sure whether Sera was right or not.
> 
> “Not all your fault,” she sighed. “It’s duty and honor. He’s always gotta do the noble thing. It’s dumb. He’s dumb. I hate him so much!”

The journey back to Skyhold was long. It likely felt longer because she didn’t have it in her to join in the camaraderie as people worked to forget recent events. She was the wet blanket. Even when she pretended, it was obvious that she wasn’t all there. 

They were persistent. She was almost never alone, even if she hardly spoke. Varric would sit with her and tell stories, Dorian would read to her. Cassandra sat in silence and let her presence be enough. Cullen watched her with sad eyes, bringing her food and drink in a strange role reversal. Even Sera apparently cared enough to chastise her for sulking about once a day.

Maxwell wouldn’t stop touching her. Everything was an excuse for a hug, a head on her shoulder, a kiss on the cheek. It was the only thing that made her feel truly warm, but it disappeared every time he left. It was the problem with your closest connections being important people. They were constantly pulled away.

The other thing that brought her comfort was a length of cord tied around her neck that held the coin from her dagger’s sheathe in a makeshift sling. She didn’t know for sure where it came from and she didn’t dare ask but it felt right to have it sitting against her skin and she frequently found herself touching.

She was relieved when Skyhold appeared on the horizon, a symbol of hope and normality. She was home and she could heal. For some reason, seeing Iron Bull and the Chargers sparring in the courtyard was calming. She had missed them while they were off at Therinfal Redoubt. She leaned against a wall, smiling slightly as Rocky tackled Dalish from behind and a spray of ice burst around them. 

Things were going to be okay.

\--

Frustrated, Emma threw her pillow against the wall. She felt ridiculous. Of course being at Skyhold wouldn’t magically make everything better. Weeks of oscillating between despair and dissociation wouldn’t be cured by stone walls and a familiar bed.

She couldn’t stay in her room anymore. She needed air. She slid out from under her covers and made for the exit. 

It was raining. Emma tilted her face to the sky and let the wet drops splash on her skin. She wasn’t sure if the place knew what she needed or it simply felt her sadness and was mirroring it back at her. Maybe neither but if there was magic in this place, she felt certain it saw her as she slowly walked along the ramparts. 

She stopped, looking out into the distance. She could see nothing beyond Skyhold’s walls. It was strangely comforting. 

“Emma, what in Maker’s name are you doing?”

“It’s never rained this hard in Skyhold. Look. You can’t see anything. It’s like we’re in our own space and the rest of the world stop existing.”

“The guards came to get me,” he pressed, ignoring her words. “They saw you out here wandering the battlements and they were concerned.”

She didn’t respond.

“Emma,  _ I _ am concerned,” he added, weighting the words carefully to communicate his distress. “They thought you might not be in your right mind. That you might…”

That caught her attention. “Oh, Cullen. No,” she said, turning towards him. “I’m sad but I’m not- I couldn’t sleep is all. I will be okay eventually.”

He stepped towards her, his hand cupping her face in his relief. “Thank the Maker. I’ve been worried. I didn’t know how to ask, or help.” 

“You did help. You  _ are  _ helping.” She shivered, the wet cold settling deep into her body finally registering now that she’d been forced to be more present. 

“You must be freezing,” Cullen said. “I am such an idiot.” He unfastened his mantle and quickly wrapped it around her shoulders. It was heavier than she expected and warm with his body heat. 

“I’m fine.” She was unsure if the heat in her face was embarrassment or his own warmth transferring to her from his proximity. “You’ll get cold,” she mumbled, watching a stream of water drag a curl down into his face and flow off it.

“I am at least wearing pants. And boots. Maker, Emma, you are a disaster.” Emma looked down at her legs and feet to discover that she had left her room wearing only her nightclothes. She hadn’t even thought about it. It was possible the guards had been sensible to feel concerned.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You’re right. I’m a mess.” She swiped at tears forming and threatening to join the rain in running down her face.

“No. Please, don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re grieving and that’s okay.”

She nodded, sniffling, and clutching his mantle more tightly around her.

He chuckled. “I still remember when you ran barefoot through the snow to check on the Inquisitor after Haven. The truth is, you’ve always been this type of disaster. It’s completely infuriating and somehow makes me adore you even more.”

She huffed a tiny laugh, blinking back the last of her tears. “Well, good, because you’re just as infuriating.”

“Emma…”

“Mm?”

A thumb brushed over her jawline and she tilted her head up to look up at him. He met her with a soft brush of his lips, his hand moving back to cup her neck gently. 

She pulled away, knowing she couldn’t do this back and forth with him anymore. It was too messy and painful. She wanted to tell him before he walked away but she couldn’t quite find the right words. “You only kiss me when things are a mess,” she sighed. It was the best she could manage.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, his hand dropping from her neck. “No. That’s not true. I’m not sorry. I’m sorry the timing was terrible and I’m sorry it was unwanted but I’m not sorry for acting on how I feel. Maker, Emma, I have tried not loving you and it is impossible. If nothing else, I will be honest, for once, about how I feel and what I want.”

It was not what she expected. “What  _ do  _ you want, Cullen?”

“I want… I want to be able to worry about you without feeling guilty because it’s not my place. I want to be able to touch you without second guessing it. I want for you to look at me the same way I’m certain I must look at you. I just want  _ you, _ Emma, to be mine. Always.” His reflexive need to rub his neck took over as he waited through the long silence that followed. “And I suppose I’ve royally embarrassed myself now with that monologue and should probably leave you in peace.”

“I do look at you like that.” Her voice was quiet and she was almost surprised she’d said it at all.

“What?”

“Like how you look at me. I’ve looked at you like that since day one. You’ve just been too caught up in telling yourself you aren’t worthy of happiness or esteem to notice.”

She watched as he wrestled with emotions, and looking every bit as lost as she felt as the process played out clearly on his face. “Then why did you pull away?”

Emma worried her bottom lip, the need to self-protect warring with the need to be honest. She felt vulnerable. “I’m terrified you’ll change your mind tomorrow.”

“How could I possibly?” He shook his head. “That was the wrong thing to say. Of course you would think that after... What I mean is that I have wanted to say something for awhile. I had thought about what I would say, but I was waiting for the right moment. Not that this is the right moment. Or that I said any of the things I had planned. Maker, I am making a mess of this.”

She smiled to herself. He wasn’t at all. Him rambling about how much he’d thought about this, her, was exactly what she needed to hear. That he’d considered his feelings and hadn’t just kissed her because she was crying and that was their pattern. “You’re doing fine, Cullen.” 

She reached out and placed her hand on his chest, stilling the anxious energy pouring from him in waves. He crooked a tiny smile at her. “I am?”

She nodded, the motion causing water from her hair to run faster down her face. She wiped it away even as she felt Cullen’s hands on her hips and his mouth on hers and it felt desperate and impatient and fervent. She was vaguely aware of her hands finding his hair and winding into it and his hands skimming over her waist and then back down to hold her hips and press firm fingers into her skin, gripping as though she might just slip away. They must have been moving because her back was pressed against stone now and she couldn’t think when that had happened. She could only think of the taste of him, sweet with wine, and the press of his lips as she kissed him back, just as wild and needy.

It was an eternity and a flash before he pulled back, panting as he rested his forehead against hers and she realized all at once that she was breathless as well. “Come back to my room,” he said. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly. “Maker, not like that. It is closer than yours and there is a fire going. We should get you out of this cold.”

“Suddenly I feel quite warm,” she panted teasingly. 

“All the same. I would like to get you inside. We should talk more.”

She nodded again. “Yes, okay.” She let him take her hand and lead her back to his tower. “Though it’s only partly inside, what with that giant hole in your roof.”

He scowled. “Josephine had it fixed while we were gone. Though I’ll admit it was probably a good thing; I’m not sure I had enough buckets to weather this storm.”

Despite the dying fire, his office was still warm and Emma peeled his soaked mantle from her shoulders and hung it over an armour stand to dry. “I’m afraid I just brought the weather in with me,” she said, gesturing to the puddle forming beneath her. 

He looked over from where he was putting more wood on the fire. “There are dry clothes upstairs in a trunk, if you would like to change?”

She did, and skittered up the ladder to exchange her nightgown for one of his shirts. She could hear the clangs of him taking off his armour below. She brought her wet clothing down to lay in front of the warmth in the hopes it would dry quickly. She could not imagine that leaving Cullen’s office in the middle of the night wearing only his shirt would do anything good for his reputation.

Okay,  _ good  _ was relative. Dorian and Bull would probably think more highly of him, if anything.

She could feel him watching her, his gaze raising the little hairs on the back of her neck. She took a slow breath and turned. 

He appeared frozen, transfixed by the moment. The tiny smile at the corner of his lips started her stomach fluttering nervously. “What?” She asked, faking bravado and playfulness to cover the escalating sense of tension coiling inside of her. 

His eyes flashed and darted to her lips before shifting and following a droplet of water from her hair as it ran over her clavicle and down under her shirt. “I should get you a towel,” he murmured, his eyes still following an imagined path downwards as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He licked his lips and Emma thought she might dissolve on the spot before he quickly grabbed a small towel from a drawer and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She pushed her hair all to one side, tilting her head to bring it away from her body and squeezing out whatever excess moisture she could wring from its tangled waves before laying the wet towel out beside her nightshirt. Cullen merely stood, looking almost at a loss. “You said you wanted to talk,” she prompted.

“I did. I may have undermined myself some with my behaviour outside but...” He stood a little taller, a purposeful look in his eye. “Lady Bennett. I would like to formally request permission to court you.”

Emma stared. “You want to  _ court  _ me.” A stiff nod. She laughed, she couldn’t help it. “You sound like you’ve been asking Cassandra for relationship advice.”

His blush answered her joke and immediately made her feel bad. Of course he had. “Oh. Right.” She reached out and took his hand, trying not to keep laughing. “You don’t have to court me. I’m here. I’m already courted. 

“I don’t even know what courting would look like,” she added.

“I could give you gifts to express my… affection.”

Emma smiled, moving his hand up to her face and resisting the urge to finger the length of cord tied around her neck. “I don’t need gifts to know how you feel.”

“I could read you poetry.”

She hummed, turning her face towards where she held it against her skin and kissing his palm. “Do you  _ want  _ to read me poetry? Usually I am the one reading to you.”

“We would take things slowly.”

That gave her pause. “Slow could be good,” she admitted. “I’m scared of messing this up. Slow might help.”

He nodded, softer this time and reaching out fingers to play with a wet strand of hair. Everything about him seemed soft now. “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh sure. Now you ask.”

“You said slow. And scared. And I am,” he exhaled loudly, “ _ extremely  _ aware that you are in my room and wearing my shirt. Yes, I am asking.” 

“Yes,” she breathed. “You can kiss me.”

Cullen took a small step closer into her space, moving carefully. His thumb moved softly over her cheekbone as he lowered his head. Their lips met gently. Unhurried. Warm. Cullen’s tongue flicked lightly over her lips and she let him in. 

Gentle became quickly unsatisfying. She needed more. Emma pushed up towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips harder against his. Cullen let out a soft moan and his arms circled her waist in response, pulling her against him. She swore she was holding back but something went wrong and she found herself wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her, his hands under her shirt and on her ass as he carried her to his desk. 

She’d been there before and images of last time made her pull back. “Wait.”

He immediately stepped back. “I apologize.”

“Don’t. I’m sure it’s me. I suck at slow. I always have.” She didn’t elaborate, but a long history of falling too hard, too fast and all the accompanying cliches rushed through her consciousness. “I should go.”

“You could stay,” he quickly countered. “Your clothing is still wet and it’s late.” 

“Okay.” She was relieved, part of her not really ready to say goodnight at all.

“I can sleep in my chair. I’ve done it by mistake on enough occasions.”

She steeled herself, ready for a drawn out and cliche negotiation over who would get the bed but her first protest was met with easy acceptance and she quickly found herself sitting on his bed and waiting for him to join her. 

Cullen touched the hem of his shirt, frowning. “I’ve seen them before,” she said softly. “They don’t bother me.”

“I know, but it feels wrong somehow to put all this gnarled mess near you. You’re so soft, and unmarked by war.”

“Was.” Emma shifted and twisted her leg out from under her, running a hand over the scars from the terror demon. She held out her arm and showed him a still healing wound from the quillback. Pulled the shoulder of his shirt aside to show the circle of scar tissue from an arrow. “I have my own marks now.”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have those. We should have protected you better. I should ha-”

Emma scooted forward and took his hand, pressing his palm flat against her stomach and letting him feel her shifting muscles as she lifted herself onto her knees. She had grown muscular in the many months she’d been in Thedas and he apparently hadn’t noticed. “I’m not that soft anymore either. You did that. That’s how you protect me. You teach me to protect myself. I can’t be soft forever and you can’t always be there.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, slow and reassuring. “Come to bed,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness we finally got there! Phew! *wipes sweat from forehead* I can hardly believe it.
> 
> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> She rolled over when she heard the door open, her growling stomach urging her towards the ladder to peak at what goodies had been delivered. When she saw dark hair instead of blonde she ducked and scrambled quietly back to the bed.
> 
> "Rutherford? You around?"
> 
> Shit. Why the hell did Maxwell have to be here so early?


	76. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still immensely unhappy with this but I took December off and it feels like you're just SO long overdue so take it for what it is, ya cretins! (I'm kidding. I love you so much. Never leave me.)
> 
> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> A thumb brushed over her jawline and she tilted her head up to look up at him. He met her with a soft brush of his lips, his hand moving back to cup her neck gently. 
> 
> She pulled away, knowing she couldn’t do this back and forth with him anymore. It was too messy and painful. She wanted to tell him before he walked away but she couldn’t quite find the right words. “You only kiss me when things are a mess,” she sighed. It was the best she could manage.
> 
> “I’m sorry,” he offered, his hand dropping from her neck. “No. That’s not true. I’m not sorry. I’m sorry the timing was terrible and I’m sorry it was unwanted but I’m not sorry for acting on how I feel. Maker, Emma, I have tried not loving you and it is impossible. If nothing else, I will be honest, for once, about how I feel and what I want.”

Emma felt warm, and heavy, as awareness of a hard chest behind her exuding heat and a large arm draping her in comforting weight slowly came into her consciousness. She relaxed and replayed the previous night’s event in her mind.  _Had he really said those things?_

She fell back towards sleep with a tiny smile in the corner of her mouth.

She wasn’t sure how long she dozed for when she felt the soft press of lips on her shoulder where her shirt had slipped down. Half asleep, she almost thought she might have imagined it when another kiss landed just next to the spot and sat there for a moment. “I can’t believe I almost lost you,” Cullen murmured quietly into her skin.

Emma twisted, turning to face him and keeping herself under his arm. “Lost me?” 

Cullen reddened under her gaze. “I thought you were asleep. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Shouldn’t have said it aloud then,” she teased. “Lost me how?”

He pointedly avoided looking her in the eyes, staring instead at where the cord around her neck had been pulled backwards and against her throat as she'd twisted. He brought his hand up to fix it, looking for anything else to focus on. “Lots of ways,” he hedged as he continued to work the necklace one-handed and eventually pulled up its pendant to arrange on her chest.

He paused, looking at the coin wrapped in cord and running his thumb over its surface. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Emma admitted, reaching down to take the coin pendant from him and pulling the whole thing over her head. “I knew you had a lucky coin and this one just felt reassuring to have near me for some reason. Here. You should-” 

She started to press it into his hand but Cullen surged forward, capturing her mouth with his and kissing her hard. “No,” he muttered, answering her unfinished question. “I feel better knowing you have it.”

Emma felt her heart racing, everything flushing with warmth under his gaze. “I’m pretty safe here in Skyhold,” she deflected on instinct. “You’ll need it more than me when you get dragged off to the Orlesian court.”

“Well.” His fingers ran a trail up her arm to her shoulder and he watched himself draw lines on her skin. “Maybe I’ll borrow it at that point.”

His hand ghosted upwards, over her neck and cheek to her forehead where he brushed a strand of hair away. “That piece never wants to stay,” he smiled. 

“You’re one to talk,” she responded, tugging lightly on an errant curl. Sleeping on wet hair did adorable things to him. 

“I’m glad you’re here. For the longest time I- I didn’t dare hope that- It seemed like too much had gone wrong between us.”

Emma placed a soft finger to his lips and shushed him. “How about instead of rehashing the past and talking about where we went wrong, we enjoy that we’re together right now and you kiss me?”

“I can do that.”

“Yeah?” She arched an eyebrow teasingly. “Because it seems like-”

He cut her off, swallowing her words with a cheeky growl. “Troublemaker,” he said against her lips. 

“Chatterbox,” she retorted between kisses.   
  
Flicking and poking at the back of her mind, part of her was surprised he seemed as certain of his desire to have her here this morning as he was last night. She half expected to wake to an empty bed and a note apologizing for all his mistakes but here he was, kissing her as sweetly as she’d ever been kissed before -- and she was fixated on her doubts.  _ Stop it, Emma _ , she thought to herself before bringing her hand up to his face and cupping his jaw as she relaxed into him.

He must have felt the change because he shifted, lifting himself and moving over her as he deepened the kiss. Emma felt her stomach flutter, his large frame hovering over her made her feel simultaneously safe and nervous. Inside she was all jitters and excitement and she could barely focus on the feeling of his lips as he parted hers or the smell of his skin and the soft touch of his fingers in her hair.

Fingers entwined in hers and her arm was over her head, gently held in place as he grasped her hand. His other hand on her bare thigh burned and she inhaled sharply, arching towards him. His thigh pressed between her legs was in the exact right place to make her shiver as she panted against his mouth. His hand slid under her shirt and up her side, his calloused thumb swiping over her ribcage and meeting the underside of her breast. He moaned softly against her lips.

“Cullen.” Emma could hear the distinct edge of a needy whine in her voice before he jolted away from her and out of the bed. He stood, facing away and running a hand through his hair. She sat up, tilting her head in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Kissing the half-dressed woman in my bed,” he exhaled shakily, “well, it’s not the best way to take things slowly.” He chuckled and turned around and Emma’s eyes were instantly drawn down to the decidedly unflat front of his pants. “I am sorry if I pushed too far.”

“I won’t lie. I completely forgot about that plan and part of me is regretting in this moment that you remembered.” Emma flopped back onto the bed, throwing an arm over her face. “But thank you for doing so." She laughed. "Will there ever be a time when I’m the responsible one?”

Cullen grinned. “It seems unlikely.”

She attempted to throw a pillow at him but he caught it mid-air with casual ease and merely smiled at her, lobbing it gently back. 

“I am not looking forward to going back to the real world,” Emma sighed. “This has been- I can almost forget when-” She gave up on trying to explain. “I just don’t know how to talk to people these days and I’m so tired. I just want to sleep the day away.”

“I understand.”

Silence.

“You could stay here. I certainly wouldn’t mind knowing you were just a ladder away as I work.”

“Why Commander Rutherford,” Emma smirked. “Are you suggesting I just take the day off to just do whatever I want?”

His face crinkled in confusion. “I think you’ve had a rough time lately and you should do what you need to take care of yourself.”

“Something tells me you would never give yourself that permission.”

A low chuckle. “Perhaps not, but you certainly would. In fact, you’ve all but demanded it from me.”

“True.” She smiled, the warm fizz of genuine pleasure bubbling through her at his affectionate teasing.

Cullen sat on the bed and cupped her cheek in his hand, pressing his forehead to hers. “Get some more sleep. I’ll rummage up some breakfast and also gather some clothing from your room, and you can decide if you want to face the day afterwards.”

She nodded slightly, still connected, and he kissed her on the forehead before moving to get dressed.

\--

Emma could hardly fall back asleep, her thoughts were racing too fast, but lying in Cullen’s bed and knowing she wouldn’t have to leave or speak to anyone if she didn’t choose to was relaxing enough on its own to help her feel more ready to face the world. She rolled over when she heard the door open, her growling stomach urging her towards the ladder to peak at what goodies had been delivered. When she saw dark hair instead of blonde she ducked and scrambled quietly back to the bed.   
  
"Rutherford? You around?"  _ Shit. Why the hell did Maxwell have to be here so early?  _ “Great. The one time I need the man this instant is the one when he’s not stuck to his work like-”

“Inquisitor. Can I help you?” Cullen’s voice came from the open doorway, betraying his surprise and concern.

“Oh good. You’re here. Emma is missing.”  _ Ah, shit. _

“Skyhold is a large place, Inquisitor. I’m certain there is no reason to be concerned.”

“Last night’s guard rotation said they saw her wandering the ramparts in the middle of the storm. She’s been having a difficult time lately. I would suggest there are plenty of reasons to be concerned.” Emma let out a quiet sigh. Evidently she would have to face the world sooner than she hoped, if only to reassure her friend.

“I am aware. I was still up at that hour and the guards came to get me when she did not respond to their entreaties for her to return to her room. I spoke to her and I promise you that she is safe.”

“Rutherford.” Emma paused, craning to hear the sounds of movement below. “Why is there a woman’s nightdress laying in front of your fire?”

_ Double shit.  _

Silence from below as Emma pressed her flaming face into her palms in quiet agony.

“What the fuck, man?” An escalated and indignant Maxwell was nearly shouting.

“Please keep your voice down. She is sleeping upstairs.” Technically not true but she was supposed to be.

“What in the Void were you thinking? Emma is vulnerable right now. She needed a friend, not a fuck!” He hissed. 

“Must you speak about her so coarsely?” He sounded tired, resigned.

“Right, so fucking her while she’s sensitive and unguarded is fine but Maker forbid I say the words.”

Emma sighed. She couldn’t possibly leave Cullen to face this tear down, especially as he seemed too stubborn to say what was needed to calm the situation. “We didn’t have sex, Max. You can relax,” she called down.

A rustling, and she could hear him tearing up the ladder. He was across the room and holding her hand in an instant. “Are you alright? The guards said-”

“I was a little out of it last night. I understand why they were concerned, but I’m fine. I promise. I just couldn’t sleep and I was disappointed and angry at myself for expecting that coming home would fix everything.”

Maxwell nodded and kissed the inside of her palm. “Don’t go worrying me like that again. Why are you even here? With your nightdress on the floor?”

“I needed someone to talk to and it was soaked through,” she responded, telling half the truth. 

“You could have come to me, you silly girl.”

“I know, but that one,” she gestured towards the ladder with her head, “doesn’t sleep much anyways and I didn’t want to wake you.” Again, half truths only that rolled in her stomach guiltily. 

He lowered his voice. “And you promise he didn’t take advantage?”

“I think you should know him better than that by now. Besides, I’m a grown woman, Max. My sadness hardly makes me incapable of making decisions.”

“But you still promise-”

“He was a complete gentleman.” Mostly true. “That being said, you just stormed into his bedroom without permission so you, dearest Inquisitor of mine, are not.”

He snorted. “True. Will I see you later?”

“I think I’m going to hide out today. Tomorrow?”

“Alright.”

“And Max?”

“Hmm?”

“Please don’t tell anyone where you found me. I don’t need more visitors, and I certainly don’t need any rumours.”

“As long as there’s nothing to spread rumours about.”

She delivered a sharp glare and placed her finger over her lips. He waved her away dismissively but she could tell he would keep quiet about her whereabouts and she hugged him close before kicking him out. 

She heard the door close and watched the ladder for Cullen’s eventual reappearance with food and fresh clothes. “I’m sorry we woke you.”

Emma shook her head. “You didn’t. You could have told him the truth, you know.”

Cullen pressed his lips together tightly. “I’m not used to speaking about personal matters and I wasn’t certain what to say… what we’re saying.” 

“What do you want to say?” She asked, plucking some kind of pastry off the platter and pointedly avoiding his gaze. The idea of suggesting first made her feel exposed.

His face transformed to one filled with doubt. “I honestly hadn’t considered it. This is so new. Is it selfish that I want to keep you all to myself?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “But selfish isn’t always bad.”

“It’s not likely I’ll have to say anything,” he laughed quietly. “The Inquisitor will almost certainly tell Dorian and Dorian will tell everyone for us.”

“Actually, I may have implied to Max that there was nothing to tell.”

He gave her a puzzled smile. “Why?”

“I thought we should be in charge of what and when we share. You’re right. This is new. It feels… delicate. I’m not sure we could survive the intrusions of our friends.”

She intended the last words as teasing but his reaction was all wrong. “My feelings… about you… they have been one of few constants since joining the Inquisition. It is my feelings about myself that have been… uncertain.”

“Hey,” she reached out and placed her hand over his. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was a joke. I trust you.”

He swallowed, his face settling into a bashful smile as he considered her words. He glowered at her playfully. “Good. Because I can certainly manage the well-intentioned meddling of Tevinter mages and Dwarven authors.”

“I know.”

“But perhaps it can wait until tomorrow.”

“Or whenever we’re ready.”

“When we’re ready,” he affirmed.

“Could be fun to keep it secret for awhile. Something special just for us, you know?”

Cullen laughed, his amber eyes crinkling with pronounced crow’s feet and shining in the candlelight. “You are wonderful. Yes. I think I would enjoy keeping you to myself for a little while.”

“Good,” Emma grinned, popping another morsel into her mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> Sera was wrong, she had decided. She did need a change in approach but it felt impossible that interfering too much was the issue. Looking back on the days past, it was clear. She hadn't done enough. Too many secrets. Too little trust. It was time to instigate some real change.
> 
> He looked at her from across the room, hand hovering over the page. "Emma, can I help you?"


	77. Ending and Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Herald's Prophet:
> 
> “I thought we should be in charge of what and when we share. You’re right. This is new. It feels… delicate. I’m not sure we could survive the intrusions of our friends.”
> 
> She intended the last words as teasing but his reaction was all wrong. “My feelings… about you… they have been one of few constants since joining the Inquisition. It is my feelings about myself that have been… uncertain.”
> 
> “Hey,” she reached out and placed her hand over his. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was a joke. I trust you.”
> 
> He swallowed, his face settling into a bashful smile as he considered her words. He glowered at her playfully. “Good. Because I can certainly manage the well-intentioned meddling of Tevinter mages and Dwarven authors.”
> 
> “I know.”
> 
> “But perhaps it can wait until tomorrow.”
> 
> “Or whenever we’re ready.”
> 
> “When we’re ready,” he affirmed.
> 
> “Could be fun to keep it secret for awhile. Something special just for us, you know?”

Thom’s funeral was simple and small. They held it in the inner courtyard and the attendees were mainly the inner circle and a few soldiers he had worked and trained closely with. Still, simple was what he would have wanted and with the sun warming their faces and the breeze spreading the scent of healing herbs about, it was nice. Emma had looked around as Mother Giselle spoke, seeing no sign of Sera at first and finally spotting her sneaking in the back and hiding in the shadows. Good. She was glad she made it. She probably would have regretted missing the whole ceremony.

Emma made no motion to acknowledge her, uncertain if doing so would send her off again. 

Her attention was drawn back to the proceedings as Mother Giselle stepped down and Maxwell replaced her before the crowd. He stood tall, exuding an air of somber leadership that he so rarely put on in private.  “Thom was a good man. He made some mistakes in his life but he spent much of it endeavouring to atone for them and I have no doubt the Maker will judge him worthy. He put his life in danger many times over for his companions and in the end that is how he went and how we should remember him. Without Thom, it is possible I would not be here today and the same goes for everyone who went into the Fade with us.” He looked up towards the sky, closing his eyes against the bright sun. “Thom, you have my gratitude and forgiveness, for whatever that means where you are. I wish you peace my friend.”

“Here, bloody fucking here!” Sera shouted from her corner, making it suddenly apparent that she was extremely drunk. Honestly, Emma was a little jealous. She didn’t exactly enjoy facing an hour of sober reflection on what her choices had brought about. A trip to the tavern afterwards might be in order.

A few more people spoke. Cassandra. Iron Bull, which surprised her. A young man she didn’t know who said he’d never held a sword before  _ Blackwall _ taught him. Sera interrupted, making emphatic exclamations from her corner but nobody kicked her out. She needed to grieve in her own way and Thom wouldn’t have valued orderliness over making space for his friend. 

In the end Emma felt worse than when the whole event had started, but she knew what she would be doing to take her mind off things and she knew she would fight to ensure the same thing didn't happen to someone else she cared about.

\--

Emma hovered awkwardly in the doorway. She was certain of her intent but hadn’t yet considered the right approach. Chewing on her bottom lip nervously, she hovered in the rotunda entranceway, running different ways of phrasing the news through her head.

Sera was wrong, she had decided. She did need a change in approach but it felt impossible that interfering too much was the issue. Looking back on the days past, it was clear. She hadn't done enough. Too many secrets. Too little trust. It was time to instigate some real change.   
  
He looked at her from across the room, hand hovering over the page. "Emma, can I help you?"

“We need to talk, Solas.” Lead with the request and let your tone communicate that this will be a serious conversation. Good.

“Ah. This will be about Fen’Harel.”

“No, actually.” She walked into the room and approached his desk nervously, barely registering that a new fresco had already appeared on the walls. She didn’t want to think about the time it represented, determined to move forward with her plan instead. “It’s about a friend of yours. I have reason to believe that Wisdom might be in danger.”

“I see.” He said the words slowly, lowering his pen and giving her his complete attention. 

“In my vision, she was summoned by mages for protection from bandits - brought through to our side against her will and corrupted. I’ve already asked Max to increase patrols in the area and provide scheduled escorts for travelers.”

“That is quite the expenditure of resources for a spirit,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

“It is hardly anything for a friend,” she countered. “Still though, I would maybe warn her to stay away from wherever in the Fade might make her accessible to people in the Exalted Plains?”

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Solas stood and addressed her with a body stiffly maintaining composure. “I will make the request. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Emma offered a small smile, almost surprised at how simple it was. “The world has too little wisdom already. I only hope we can help.”

Maybe, just maybe, she thought as he walked away, being responsible for saving his friend would change how he felt about this world somewhat. Maybe it would make a difference.

\--

“Just a couple more things,” Josephine hummed, tapping her quill against the page as she thought. “Cullen, you still need to be measured for your suit jacket.”

“Just measure my armour,” he grumbled. “I have more important things to do.”

Emma nearly laughed, but swallowed it at Josephine’s sharp expression. Even from across the war table, she didn’t want to make that woman mad. Cassandra made an irritated sound from deep in her throat. “Even I did my duty for this event, Cullen. It is time you stop protesting and make this easier for us all. Your resistance will not help Maxwell to succeed.”

Maxwell was standing with his arms crossed, frowning at the Templar before him, an eyebrow raised. They hovered still on the edge between friendship and disapproval and it could go either way. Despite his upbringing, Emma knew he was nervous about the ball and needed things to go as smoothly as possible. He had an assassination to stop and that was no small thing to carry on his shoulders.

“Fine.” Cullen had averted his gaze, probably embarrassed at his own stubbornness. “Send them this afternoon.” 

“Good.” Josephine jotted down a note. “Expect them around fourteen bells. Emma, your gown is ready to be fitted for alterations. How is fourteen-thirty?”

“That’s fi-”

“What?” She was cut off as Cullen's sharp voice inserted itself into the conversation.

“We talked about this already,” Leliana said flatly. 

“And we decided to investigate if any other solutions were possible.”

“And there aren’t any. Emma’s attendance is not negotiable if Gaspard is to let us accompany him and she is too well known now to get away with an impostor. She has to come.”

Cullen stiffened, pressing his lips tightly against whatever he wanted to say about the matter. He leaned forward, hands bracing on the war table and sighed. A stiff nod.

“Good.” Josephine beamed at them all. “We are finished then.” 

Collectively, the group began moving towards the door with purpose and speed, everyone having a number of other tasks to do. Only Cullen remained stationary. “Emma,” he said softly, still stiffly gripping the war table. “If I might have a word with you please.”

Josephine exchanged a sympathetic look with Emma as she stepped through the door, knowing better than to get involved at this point, as Leliana shot daggers at him with her eyes that were sharp enough to cause real injury. “She has no ability to change this either, Cullen.”

“I am well aware.”

Maxwell hovered near her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Do you need me to stay?”

“Maker’s Breath,” Cullen groaned. “It’s as though you all think I’m going to attack her.”

“Of course not,” Maxwell snapped in return. “But you have been known to yell when things don’t go as you want.”

“So have you, Inquisitor, and I don't believe I have ever endeavoured to stop you being alone with another person.”

“Enough!” Emma could shout too, and she would not stand around while the most powerful people in Thedas spent their time arguing over whether or not she should be handled with kid gloves. “This is ridiculous. I am fine. I have been through some things but so has everyone else here and every one of you much worse. Just because I did not grow up learning to fight does not mean that I cannot handle hardship or need protection against a bloody conversation with someone who cares about me.”

Leliana’s tapped her fingers against the heavy oaken door to the war room she was currently holding open. “Fair enough,” she said simply, her eyebrows raised. Maxwell had the decency to flush with embarrassment as he turned and followed Josephine and Cassandra out the door before Leliana let it swing shut behind them.

“They care about you, you know.”

“Funny. I thought the same could also be said of you.”

He shook his head, pushing off the table and walking towards her with purpose. His eyes were intense and he held himself with a rigidity that made her think she was perhaps in for that lecture after all. Instead his hands found her face and he was kissing her, pressing her against the wall as she clutched at his mantle and whimpered against his lips.

He pulled back slightly at the sound. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed, pulling herself up onto her toes to press her lips against his once more before dropping back down. “That was unexpected.”

Blushing, Cullen’s hand started it’s telltale move to the back of his neck and Emma reached out to wrap her hand around his wrist, bringing it back towards her instead. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she murmured, pulling his glove from his hand and kissing his palm. “It was lovely.”

“You have no idea how many War Councils I have stood across from you and thought what it would be like to walk around the table and kiss you. It occurred to me today that you would likely allow it this time. I am ashamed to admit I struggled to stay focused on the topic at hand.”

It was Emma’s turn to blush. The idea that there was a slight possibility she might not allow it was laughable. She’d honestly let him bend her over the war table if he’d asked, taking things slow or no. “Sorry it took an awkward moment to make it happen. Even though I’m pretty sure you’re lying. I can’t imagine anything distracting you meaningfully from Inquisition business.”

“Can’t you?”

“You work through migraines, exhaustion from nightmares, fevers…”

“Working through them does not mean I do not find them distracting.”

“I suppose I’m just one more thing for you to overcome then,” she teased, tapping a finger on his nose playfully. 

“I would prefer if we can end this war and it can stop being a distraction from you.” Emma’s smile faltered, knowing they had a ways to go yet and some of those moments would be hard for him. “Emma?”

She shook her head. “It’s all uncertain in my head,” she admitted. “I think it will end but not for a long while.”  _ But hopefully I can end it for good. _

“Tell me.” It was not a demand but an invitation. An offer of support. His hand cupped her face and the war room felt a lot more warm and inviting than it did usually. The stone walls seemed to glow in the candlelight and not even the table itself felt intimidating like it usually did. 

“I have many things to tell but I’m not sure how to tell them. Does that make sense? It’s like, I have these pieces of information but, being here with all of it, I can’t quite tell how they fit together or how to explain them in a way that will help. I’m terrified that if I do it wrong, I’ll just make things worse.”

“All we can do is try our best. You are a gift from the Maker. I have faith you will find a way to help.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a girl.”

Cullen pressed his lips together in a slight frown, looking away momentarily before his gaze returned to her face. “There is a monster attempting to achieve godhood and unleash a multitude of horrors upon the world. We are all under a great deal of pressure, but I am sorry that you are made to carry it more fully than others.” 

Nodding, Emma leaned forward and rested her forehead against his breastplate. “I know. I just- sometimes I want to run away. I promise to stay and fight though. As long as I can.”

“I know you will.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Commander's Prophet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993659) by [kimpossible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimpossible/pseuds/kimpossible)
  * [Someone's Prophet Anyways](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495403) by [kimpossible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimpossible/pseuds/kimpossible)




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